


The Support of My Enemy

by LadyArinn



Series: A Future That Changes as We Do [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Advice, Bigotry & Prejudice, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Books, But First its More Like, Canon Compliant, Childhood Memories, Confessions, Crushes, Dark Mark, Developing Relationship, Difficult Decisions, Enemies to Allies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone Tries Their Best, F/M, Feelings Are Difficult, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Girls Who Love and Support Each Other, Good Draco Malfoy, Hate to Love, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Legilimency, Lies, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, Manipulative Dumbledore, Memories, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Personal Growth, Plans, Relationship Advice, Secrets, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spy Draco Malfoy, Teen Crush, Teenagers, Until Book 6, brief mention of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArinn/pseuds/LadyArinn
Summary: People change as a result of difficult times, even terrible little toads like Draco Malfoy. When faced with this truth first hand, Hermione must decide if she's willing to put it all on the line to help save people who have always thought of her as less than human....What would have happened if Hermione had come across Draco sixth year instead of Harry?





	1. And so It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been sitting on this story and letting it stew in my head for about a year now. Then about a month ago I suddenly had to write it, and it's come out pretty steadily since then.
> 
> I haven't read the books since high school, and It's been a while since I watched the sixth movie (mostly because it is one of the worst of the series, in my personal opinion), so everything is a mix of stuff from the books and movies, and there may be some inaccuracies from each. You can point them out if you want.

Books had always been a solace that Hermione had never had to question. They weren’t like people, weren’t so unforgiving of any awkwardness, of any differences. Any _know-it-all-ness_. Books were universes she could crawl into where everything was laid out for her, where there was an ending in the distance – happy or not – and where people like her could be heroes.

Books were her happiness and her home.

She couldn’t remember how she had first come to rely so heavily on books and the universes inside of them – maybe it was because of her father, maybe because of the endless days of grade school where she spent all of her time reading because she didn’t have any friends. But no matter how it had started, by this point in her life she knew that books were so much a part of her that she didn’t know who she’d be without them.

Her father had read her books before bed every night growing up, _Whinnie the Pooh_ and such when she was very small and moving on to the _Hobbit_ and _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ as she grew. She’d been the first to read in her class, and had been the student who had won all of the reading awards they could pass out with ease.

When Thomas Hilly made fun of her hair every day in class during third year, tugging on it and putting things in it that she wouldn’t notice until it was too late, she’d shoved her nose into Jane Austen’s works and imagined a world where she could speak out like the women in those books. When Ann Donovan hadn’t invited her to her birthday party but had invited everyone else in class she’d read _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ and laughed over the Mad Hatter’s tea time antics.

Then she’d turned out to be magic and her life had turned into the sort of book she’d always dreamed about being in. She’d gotten on the train that first year imagining all the friends she’d make, picturing all the amazing things she’d learn and do and… It had taken time, it hadn’t been an instantaneous thing like she’d dreamed it would be, but she’d gotten there. She’d gotten her storybook life.

It wasn’t as perfect as she’d dreamed of with, you know, Voldemort, but it was amazingly wonderful and she wouldn’t change it for anything in the whole wide world. And she tried to remind herself of that as she curled up on her bed, curtains drawn closed as she tried her best to read her way out of the situation she’d found herself in.

Lavender _had_ to be talking this loudly on purpose, giggling with Pavarti on her bed at the other side of the room over what it was like to be dating Ron. What it was like to kiss Ron. How _handsy_ Ron was.

Making a sound of disgust, Hermione dug her wand out from where it had buried itself in the folds of her top quilt and quickly cast a charm to muffle their voices.

She didn’t know the charm for completely cutting off outside sound, sadly, though that was going to change very, _very_ quickly. She refused to be subjected to this horror ever again.

Though the one good thing about muffling instead of completely silencing was that she could tell when they were done talking and had left the room, which meant that she knew the moment that she was free to emerge from her little prison of comfort.

Breathing out a sigh of relief Hermine sat up, wondering if she wanted to chance going down to the common room. On one hand, all of her friends were down there and she liked her friends. On the other, Lavender was now probably down there with Ron and she didn’t want to be _near_ the girl, even though she’d liked Lavender alright before all of this. Before this year she’d thought she was a sweet, slightly dim, but happy person, and nothing had been bothersome about her until she’d latched onto _Ron_ and…

This wasn’t about Ron. It _wasn’t_. They were just way to overly affectionate in a truly disgusting way and it was offensive to her as a person. She wasn’t going to be the sort of jealous girl that would hate another person just because they happened to be dating the guy she liked. That would be an incredibly petty thing for her to do.

And anyways, it _definitely_ wasn’t about Ron. It was about them deciding that they could sacrifice everyone’s comfort for the sake of their ability to snog whenever the mood struck. Which was disgusting, obviously, and the _nicknames_. Oh dear Merlin, the nicknames were enough to drive a person to madness.

She flopped back to lay back on her bed again to frown up at the canopy above her for a second before launching herself back up and off the bed. They were not going to keep her from doing the things she wanted to do. She wouldn’t let them. Their tongues were not enough to keep her from going downstairs.

Down the stairs everyone was lounging around, some diligently doing homework, but mostly everyone was chatting with one another easily, passing the time before they had to inevitably actually get to work. Harry was talking with Dean and Ginny about quittage on one of the couches, and Hermione went over to them with a brief but happy sigh that Lavender and Ron weren’t there.

That Ron wasn’t there sent a small pang through her heart but… Well, it felt like they hadn’t talked in an eternity. Even if he had been there she was unsure of what she’d say to him. So it was fine. Everything was fine.

“Have you done your charms essay yet?” She asked as soon as she sat down, earning a groan from both Harry and Dean. Ginny – lovely Ginny – just laughed.

“We’re taking a break.” Harry declared like a dare, and Hermione gave him a pursed-lipped look of disapproval.

“And how long has this break been going on?” She asked knowingly, and Harry glared at her. It was weak though, which meant he was feeling a bit guilty and knew she was right. She strengthened the amount of disapproval she was showing and finally the boy sighed, getting off the couch with a groan to go get his things to write the essay. Dean followed after, once Ginny had given him an indifferent shrug.

“So now you’re all going to be doing charms, I guess?” The girl asked, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder when it got in her way in a way that strangely didn’t look forced or weird. Hermione envied her a bit, and wanted to learn her secrets.

“I finished that essay days ago, so I’ll be doing my Arithmancy essay instead. I just knew that Harry wouldn’t have started it yet.” Both girls laughed, knowing their friend well, and Ginny stood with a stretch, reaching her heavily freckled arms up to the ceiling.

“If I go get my tansfiguration work do you think you could help me with it in a while? I’m a bit stuck.”

“Of course.” Hermione agreed warmly, and Ginny tossed a brief thanks at her as she threw herself out of her seat and ran to the stairs.

Once she had gone Hermione busied herself with laying out her parchment and inkwell on the ground, readying her quill just as the portrait swung open to allow Lavender and Ron in. The two were wrapped up in each other in an almost impossible way, giggling wildly and seeming reluctant to let the other go as they stumbled through the common room together.

With a lurch of her stomach she averted her eyes, hoping that they’d just move on without bothering her. But she saw their stumbling legs in the corner of her eye and she realized with a frown that they were coming toward her and the currently empty couch she was sitting in front of. Also, she realized, they hadn’t even noticed her.

That certainly gave her a lovely feeling.

“Oh! Hermione!” Ron laughed a little awkwardly when they almost stepped right on her, too caught up in each other’s eyes or something horrendous like that. “Doing homework as always, I see.”

“Of course.” Hermione agreed a bit shrilly, hand clenching on her quill so tightly it almost broke, “ _What else_ would I be doing?” After all, homework was the only good thing she was good for, apparently. These days Ron could barely notice her unless it was about time to turn an essay in that he hadn’t even started and that he needed her to do. And then he’d turn those eyes of his onto her and pretend like nothing had changed and she just couldn’t seem to say no, couldn’t seem to remember any of his horrible behavior when he came to her and went, _“Hey, Mione…”_

“Oh, Won-Won, can’t we do something _fun?_ ” Lavender pouted, shooting a look at Hermione in a way that made it clear that she just wanted to get away from Hermione. And that made anger and disgust boil in her gut in a way that erased everything else she’d been thinking because it was _Ron’s_ fault for dating the girl. It was Ron’s fault that there was so much distance and animosity separating them now. It was Ron’s fault that-

“Ron!” Harry yelped from the stairs, the dense boy surprisingly recognizing the atmosphere for what it was right away, “How are you!” He yelled, almost sprinting down the rest of the stairs and across the room toward them in a way that made him look just as deranged as people had claimed he was for years.

“Good…” Ron squeaked uncertainly, and Harry’s grin was almost manic as he looked between a scowling Hermione, a pouting and glaring Lavender, and a frowning – but mostly confused – Ron.

“That’s great!” Harry seemed to be unable to stop yelling, and it was catching everyone’s attention. Hermione was torn between hitting him and… There was actually no ‘and’. She just really wanted to hit the boy because he was acting like he’d never interacted with a human-being before and it was embarrassingly ridiculous.

He began to look around desperately, like he had just figured out he was drowning in the situation he had created, and his eyes caught on Ginny and Dean as they came down the stairs together.

“Isn’t that great guys!” He called, like a dying man calling for a life preserver.

“Um…” Dean froze, obviously shocked by how much of a lunatic Harry looked like and the way everyone in the common room now had their attention fixed on him, but Ginny took in the situation rather quickly and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah.” She agreed easily, pulling Dean over to the couch and flopping onto it as if this was a situation she walked into all the time, purposely walking between the disgustingly affectionate couple and Hermione to give the girl that bit of separation from them. It helped, giving Hermione a second to catch her breath and realize that everyone was trying to help her and was there for her.

Harry was doing a horrible job, but he was still trying his best and that meant a lot.

“Have you done your charms assignment?” Hermione asked Ron and Lavender stiffly, figuring that attempting to be civil would be the best thing. The grown-up and reasonable thing, even. Ron’s frown deepened, and he looked away shamefully.

“Not exactly,” He hedged, and after five years of hearing that Hermione knew that what he really meant was that he hadn’t even thought about it.

“He’ll get to it.” Lavender huffed like she’d personally offended her. Hermione grit her teeth – and as the daughter of two dentists, she really knew better than to do that. But this girl just drove her to it, and very nearly to several more violent options.

“You need to do it, Ron,” Hermione tried to say evenly, “It’s due tomorrow.”

His ears flushed and he glared at her, “Like she said, I’ll get to it!” He bit out, and Hermione flinched before gathering herself again and glaring back at him.

“I’m sorry if I don’t believe you’ll find the time in your busy schedule of shoving your tongue down her throat to do your work. After all, it seems to be the only thing you’re capable of doing these days.” She hissed, and a flush immediately overtook his face.

Lavender huffed angrily and actually stomped her foot, which Hermione had never actually seen a person do. “Come on, Won-Won.” She sniffed, tugging him back toward the portrait. “We don’t need this.”

He went, but not without sending another quick glare over his shoulder at her.

The room seemed to ring with its silence the moment after the portrait swung shut, but soon enough everyone began talking again, though more than one conversation was over what had just happened.

“Thank goodness we can all get together so often to have these nice little moments together.” Ginny enthused, which managed to make Harry snort and take Hermione’s attention away from where Ron and Lavender had exited the common room.

“Yeah.” Hermione grit out, angrily shoving all thoughts of the couple out of her head and focusing on her homework. “It’s great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles, as proposed by CaptainKenway:
> 
> Hermione makes everything better bc she's awesome  
> Hermione: Maker of Awesome Things (Because Ron and Harry are Dumbasses)  
> Hermione and Draco Become Bros and then more ;)  
> When Draco Met Hermione (Except not really because they've known each other since they were 11)  
> Dramione for the Win  
> Endless Hourglass  
> Mirror's Edge  
> Edge of Fate  
> Gate to the Heart  
> Please Read Don't be a Twat
> 
> So, as you can see, all of them were solid suggestions, but I went with what I thought was best.


	2. The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is my present for the hollidays! Two chapters in one day! After this, I'll post a chapter every Monday and Friday.
> 
> Also, I messed with the timeline, making it so that Draco and Hermione meet up much earlier than Harry and Draco did in canon. Myrtle had said she had been talking to Draco for a bit, so I just stretched that out even longer.

If it had been different – if it had been _earned_ – it would have bothered her, but she would have gotten past it. She would have pushed herself to do better and be the best but…

The book Harry was using, the one that was making him the best in the Potions class with all of its secrets inside, she couldn’t get past that. It was _cheating,_ and no matter how hard she worked she couldn’t be as good with the proper instructions as Harry was with the help of the Half-Blood Prince.

If she tried to protest everyone thought her real problem was that she was no longer the best student and sure, she didn’t _like_ that she’d dropped in class ranking behind Harry but… She was almost certain it was dangerous. Harry couldn’t believe her, though, not when it was helping him so much.

Watching as Harry was praised by Slughorn while she herself was having a bit of difficulties, all the while Ron was ignoring her and… It was hard. It was really, really hard.

She tried to push past it but her hands were shaking as she stirred her cauldron, and even before she was done she could tell it wasn’t going to go right. Potion making was such a delicate science that the slightest differing from what was supposed to happen – when it wasn’t instructed by the all wise _Half-Blood Price_ , that is – would ruin hours and hours of hard work in a devastating manner. When you seemed to be doing everything wrong… Well, there was just no way it would be able to be saved.

By the end the potion – which was supposed to be smooth with a sky blue color – was a thick, black sludge that made her eyes prick with tears and her throat close from the failure of it all.

Harry’s was perfect, though. Of course his was. And Ron’s was okay since Harry had helped him once he’d finished and…

She didn’t bother waiting for them, just hurried out of the classroom once the class was done, her books held tightly to her chest as she raced up the stairs. She was barely able to clearly spit out the password to get into the common room when prompted, hurrying past the few people sitting on the couches to get up to her room. The curtains surrounding her bed were drawn closed as they always were these days and she was thankful for it as she flopped onto her bed face first, curtains closing back behind her to cocoon her in the darkness inside.

She just needed a minute to get over it and then she could go back out there and be fine. She could hang out with her friends and not push Harry away like Ron and… and…

It took about ten minutes but finally her breathing evened out and the sick feeling in her gut eased, and she felt like she could finally go back and be the Hermione she had to be. But then the door to the dorm opened and the giggles filling the room were so familiar she froze, knowing there was no escape now.

“I’m just saying,” Pavarti sighed, and she could hear the thud of the girls throwing themselves on one of the beds, “She needs to realize that _you’re_ the one dating him. _You’re_ his girlfriend.”

“I know!” Lavender agreed with an annoyed sigh.

“You just look at her and you clearly see how jealous she is and you just have to think, _‘get over it, you lost.’_ Right?”

“It’s irritating.” Lavender huffed, “We’ll just be doing something together and then he’ll see her or hear her and we’ll have to go talk to her and it just turns into a fight between them and it makes him horrible the whole rest of the day.” She sighed again, this time a bit sad, “I just want to be with my boyfriend but for some reason she doesn’t seem to like me and it’s just…” She made a sound of disgust.

The two girls continued to complain and all of Hermione’s carefully constructed strength seemed to dissolve as she listed to them systematically list and confirm all of her faults. She couldn’t leave or cast her usual muffling charm, knowing that the situation would only become more mortifying if she let them know she was in the room.

So she laid there with her eyes closed, wishing that she didn’t have to hear and hoping that they’d leave soon. And she supposed they didn’t stay overly long, just about half an hour, but half an hour was an eternity in this situation and once they had finally gone she was almost… numb. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t get angry, and couldn’t get sad. It was like she was feeling so much she couldn’t feel anything at all and that had never happened to her before.

She needed to leave. She needed to just get up, and get away.

She slipped out of her bed and out of the Gryffindor tower, thankfully without anyone seeing or stopping her. She couldn’t handle anyone talking to her, expecting her to act like regular old Hermione, wanting help with writing essays or wanting a book recommendation. She just… She _couldn’t._ And so she wandered, going toward the one place she knew no one would approach in the hopes that she could be left alone long enough to figure out what she could do.

Of course, nothing could ever go how she wanted it to.

“You there!” A high pitched, whiney voice called. A voice that could only belong to one person, who Hermione had been viciously hoping not to run into. Though it was because of her that this hall in particular hall was almost always empty, which was the only reason Hermione was even there.

“Myrtle.” She greeted stiffly, clenching her hands into fists at her side so tightly that her nails bit harshly into the skin of her palms.

“You need to help him.” The ghost demanded, floating over to the girl with a mulish, determined look on her usually distraught face.

“Help who?” Hermione questioned, straightening up automatically. She could be miserable later if a situation was bad enough that Moaning Myrtle was asking for help on someone’s behalf. And anyways, something to focus on would probably be good, and maybe there was another troll on the loose or something like that. Something to make it feel _anything_ like the simpler time she wished it was.

“He’s in my bathroom, oh, the poor thing,” The ghost fretted, twisting her hands together anxiously “Sometimes he’ll talk but today he’s inconsolable. I want to help but what can I do? I’m _dead!”_ She wailed, sinking back into her usual mood. After a moment, though, she seemed to forcibly shake it off, floating closer to Hermione and peering intently into her face.

“You though, you’re very much alive. And you’re the sort to want to help help _help,”_ She mocked, her face curling in disgust for a moment before it cleared up. “But maybe that’s what he needs. He’s sensitive, you see. He’s completely unlike anyone who has ever come through my bathroom.” She sighed almost dreamily, which was more than a little disturbing.

“Take me to him, and I’ll help.” Hermione vowed, and Myrtle peered even closer at the girl.

“Do you promise?” She prodded, obviously having forgotten how helpful she had just declared the girl to be, and Hermione nodded once, sharply.

“Whatever I can do.” She promised quietly, meaning every word.

With a nod the ghost floated through the door of the girl’s first floor bathroom, leaving Hermione to scramble after her. Once inside she could hear the sound of muffled sobs, a gentle shushing that must have been coming from Myrtle joining in after a moment.

“There there,” The ghost cooed, so unlike how she usually was it was alarming, like if she was acting in such a way the situation had to be really, really bad. “It’ll be okay.”

“It _won’t.”_ The crying person protested, voice breaking on the words, “It can’t be!”

Hermione stepped to the corner, peering around it to see who it was to know what she was walking into. She had to know as much as possible about what was going on to make sure she could best help whoever was in there, and she didn’t want to just jumping head first – she wasn’t Harry, after all – and-

Oh. Oh dear.

“Don’t say that,” Myrtle soothed, “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll help you.”

Draco Malfoy looked up at Moaning Myrtle, one of the most annoying and horrible ghosts of the castle, and looked almost desperate to believe her. And Hermione had never imagined that sort of look on his face, never thought of such a horrible, terrible boy could ever look like this. So lost and angry and sad and…

Should she even talk to him? A part of her wanted to, but a much larger and more logical part knew that she shouldn’t. He hated her, after all, and would never want a _mudblood_ like her seeing him like that.

He sobbed again, and she supposed there was nothing she could do, really.

“Malfoy,” She said gently as she stepped forward, moving like she was approaching a savage animal, and the boy whirled to her with a look of such shock and fear that it drew her up short. Then his face morphed to a thick mask of fury and disgust, and while that was more familiar footing she couldn’t help but feel a clenching at the tear tracks on his cheeks and his swollen eyes.

“Granger, what are _you_ doing here?” He spits out, fists trembling at his sides, and Hermione took a breath and let her hands hang limply at her sides. She had to handle this very, very carefully.

“Nothing.” She says simply, wondering at how awkward this all was. This was certainly not how she’d expected her day to go at all. It was almost like something was conspiring against her to make everything as difficult as possible for her. “I just… Wanted a change in scenery.”

“Oh, I’m _sure,”_ He spits out like he could use his words as a weapon against her like he usually did, but it wasn’t exactly effective, what with the tears and the sheer desolation he seemed to be shrouded in.

Swallowing past the tightness in her throat Hermione stepped forward again, staring at the anxious tick in Draco’s jaw instead of his eyes. She dug into her pocket and when Draco was quick to whip his wand out, probably thinking she was doing the same, she did her best to remain calm. When she pulled out a handkerchief he was left standing there for a moment dumbly as she took another step forward, offering the small cloth to the boy so carefully it was almost insulting.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She swears quietly, and he glares at her disbelievingly.

“Oh, I’m sure that not a word of this will end up in Potter’s ears,” He hissed, and she shook her head quickly.

“It won’t.” Seeing that he still didn’t believe her, she pressed her lips together tightly in annoyance. “I don’t tell Harry everything. There are always things he doesn’t need to know.” She challenges, feeling a little curl of shame in her gut at that bit of truth. He looks a little shocked at that, either at the fact or her bluntness, but it fades after a moment.

He makes a sound of disgust and tries to shove past her, but she blocks him and remains immovable, meeting his anger head on with a firm jaw and a glare of her own.

She’d dealt with scarier beasts than Draco Malfoy at his lowest, and she was only trying to help him. He just needed to stop acting like such a prick and let her.

“Take it.” She snaps, shoving the handkerchief into his hand, “If you go out there like that people will talk. And where will that leave you?”

With a hiss and a hard glare he shoves past her again, the door slamming shut after him. But he takes the handkerchief with him, and that’s something.

“You didn’t do _anything!”_ Myrtle shrieks once he’s gone, and Hermione transfers her glare to her, “You were supposed to help but I bet you just made it worse!”

“Oh, _shut up.”_ Hermione hissed and whirled away, the door slamming shut on the beginning of Myrtle’s high pitched wail of rage and the rush of water as she turned on all of the taps of the sinks.

The only place Hermione could go now was the library, not wanting to go back to the Gryffindor tower or anywhere she would run into Harry or Ron or anyone who would know her too well. The day had just been layer after layer of calamity piling on top of her and she just needed _time._ Hopefully, no one would bother her if they thought she was busy studying to keep up her reputation as the brightest witch of their age.

Luckily, all of her friends seemed to be adverse to all forms of studying, so she’d always have the library to go to if there was nothing else.

Once inside the lovely sanctuary, surrounded by story high shelves of books, she chose a book at random and took it to sit down at a secluded table. She opened it, though she didn’t bother reading it and instead just stared blankly at the first page, wondering at what had just happened and how it had happened. Now that it was over, it felt almost like some sort of fever dream.

Everything had been simpler before this day had started.

What could have upset Draco like that? So much so that he looked truly and utterly devastated, more wrecked than she had ever seen a person be in a singular moment? Sure, she hadn’t thought he was heartless but she certainly had never thought of Draco Malfoy as someone who had a great depth of emotions.

She’d have to watch her back for a while because it was an almost certainty that he would retaliate, not wanting anyone – but especially not _her_ – to see him like that. She really wouldn’t expect him to do any less.

But at least he’d taken her handkerchief. That made her feel a little bit better about it all. Like she’d done something to help, even if she actually hadn’t.

Even if he would never, ever want or accept her help.


	3. A Pattern Emerges

“Is Harry on his _‘Malfoy is a Death Eater’_ rant again?” Ginny asked, draping herself over the back of the couch near Hermione’s head. The older girl tore herself away from her book to blink at her dearest friend, realizing that he had in fact been ranting at her for the past ten minutes and that she hadn’t heard a single word. She listens for a moment and then turns toward Ginny, dismissing the boy and his ravings entirely.

“Yes.” She sighed, and the two girls shared an eye roll.

Ginny sat next to her, and instead of bothering to take the time to walk around the couch she just flipped over the back of it in a way that was skillful, but Hermione couldn’t help but want to ask if the effort was worth it. The younger girl, apparently gaining temporary telepathic abilities, grinned at her in a way that clearly communicated, _‘Yeah, completely worth it’_ , and Hermione could only roll her eyes and accept her.

Together the two girls continued to ignore Harry and his conspiracy theories, Ginny starting to play with Crookshanks – who had been curled up comfortably on Hermione’s lap – and Hermione looking back down at her book. Though she found that she couldn’t start reading again, instead she found herself thinking about the last time she had seen Draco Malfoy in more than passing.

She hoped he was doing okay, and that was weird. She shouldn’t be worrying over him or even really _thinking_ about him. It made her feel disoriented and a little bit nauseous thinking about the terrible toad in a sympathetic light.

She needed to get him out of her head, somehow. She needed to find a way to get back to how everything was before she’d come across him having a shockingly human moment in Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Hey, ‘Mione?” Ron sighed heavily from the other couch, tearing her away from her thoughts. She looked up to see that he was making pleading eyes at her that made her stomach sink, knowing what was coming next “Could you help me with herbology?”

“You should have already done that.” Hermione huffed, gripping her book tightly and not looking at it, knowing that she was going to cave but wishing so hard that she wouldn’t. “It’s due tomorrow morning.”

“I know,” Ron whined, pouting and acting like there had never been a lick of tension between them. It was so convincing it almost tricked her into thinking so. “But… Come on ‘Mione! _Please?”_ He begged, and her resolve cracked and crumbled in a way that was almost eager.

“Fine,” She sighed, and Ron cheered in a way that made her smile despite herself, though their moment was interrupted by an angry Lavender stomping over to them.

 _“Ron,”_ She pouted, making the boy freeze with the use of his real name, “I thought we were going to do our homework _together.”_

“Oh, well, I was just going to…” Ron trailed off, and Lavender whirled away with a huff. Ron continued to sit there, frowning when he looked up to see his sister scowling at him.

“What?” He frowned, and Ginny rolled her eyes harshly. Things might have been tense between them because of his incredibly insulting attitude about her and Dean, but Ginny still couldn’t let him be a complete ass when it affected other people.

“Go after your girlfriend, you knob.” She demanded, scowling at him for his stupidity, and he considered a moment before pushing himself up and slowly going after Lavender. Hermione sighed and smiled at Ginny when the younger girl patted her shoulder consolingly.

“He’ll get there eventually.” The younger girl assured her, mistaking what Hermione was torn up about. Hermione smiled weakly, allowing her to continue with her wrong assumptions.

“Yeah.” She agreed, the word falling from her lips like a dead weight, lifeless and unfelt.

“Hey, Hermione…” Harry came over to sit next to her, abandoning his Malfoy rant for the day, giving her a gentle but uncertain look. Hermione forced herself to shake the mood off and wondered at how she’d been acting the past few weeks, if this was how everyone reacted when she saw the couple together.

She wasn’t happy about it, but… She just needed to figure out a way to force herself past it. That’s all. She’d just have to force herself to be as she had been before.

“I’m fine,” She huffed, pushing all of that behind her and deciding just to focus on the now, and after a moment Harry patter her shoulder with a grin.

“That’s good. But you know,” He started innocently, and Hermione was instantly suspicious, “You can always help me with my herbology work.” He blinked at her, like he thought she didn’t know what he was doing and hadn’t wised up to their acts years ago.

She laughed lightly and rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness.

“Fine.” She huffed, and he hurried away to go get what was almost certainly a half assed half-finished essay that she would have to heavily edit.

Later that night, on her way up to the astronomy tower to study the stars for a quiz they would be having that night, she paused at the sound of some familiar voices talking, walking toward her where she was hidden by the hall’s turn.

“Its just so frustrating! He’s pulling away and trying to spend more time with her, and every time I try and spend time with him instead he gets annoyed. What do you think I’m doing wrong?” Lavender wailed, and Pavarti shushed her.

“Nothing,” She assured the girl, and Hermione heard a soft sniffle.

Oh… Oh no. She was _crying._

They were just about to the corner so Hermione quickly pressed herself up against the wall, slipping quickly behind a heavy tapestry and pressing a finger to her lips at the enraptured portraits hanging on the walls.

“Maybe you should make an ultimatum. Something like, _‘if you don't stop hanging out with her we’re through._ ’” A third girl suggested as they turned the corner, some hufflepuff Hermione was fairly certain was named Alice.

Lavender sighed again, sniffing back her tears and of course she was a pretty crier.

“I can’t do that. How would you react if your boyfriend told you not to hang out with me?”

The girl made a sound of outrage. “I would never-“

“I know,” Lavender soothed, a hand going to the girl’s shoulder in comfort, “And you know that they’ve been friends for so long, almost as long as Pavarti and I have. I can’t just make that demand. And… I can kind of understand where she’s coming from, I guess. It's hard to see your crush with someone else.”

The girls stopped a bit farther down the hall, still where Hermione could see them. Lavender sighed again, looking so lost and sad, and Hermione remembered how she’d thought of the other girl before the whole situation with Ron had started. She was a bit vain but almost fiercely sweet and loyal. She’d been the most excited to help with Hermione’s makeover for the Yule Ball, and had been one of the first to actually listen to Harry about Voldemort back when the entire wizarding world was against him.

Lavender wasn't an evil person. She was just a girl who liked Ron and was a bit too eager to exhibit that, and it just made it so. Much. _Harder._

“I still don't like it.” The girl finished, and the small group continued on their way. Once they were gone Hermione left as well, though she didn't go to the astronomy tower like she had wanted. Instead she wandered, stuck in her head and only coming back to herself once she realized where she had ended up. Maybe it was an accident.

Maybe it wasn’t.

She opened the door cautiously, peeking inside.

“Myrtle?” She called, holding her breath and not even sure of what she was doing as she walked in, watching for any sign of the angry ghost.

She went around the corner to where she had seen Draco the last time she had been in the bathroom, going to the far wall and sliding down it to sit down on the floor, closing her eyes as she wished everything could have remained easy. Wishing that nothing would have had to change.

She must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes again at the sound of the door opening, she had the same wrung out feeling she always got when she took a nap. The same taste of regret in her mouth and grit in the corners of her eyes.

Footsteps, and then there was Draco Malfoy, looking halfway to breaking and more disheveled than she had ever seen him, even considering their last interaction.

When he saw her he froze, an almost perfect mask harshly slipping into place on his face as he pivoted on his heel and made as if to walk back out.

“Wait,” Hermione called, wishing she could blame the tiredness in her voice solely on her accidental nap. “You don't have to go.”

“Why should I stay?” He bit out, his back to her and his fists clenched angrily at his sides. And wasn’t that a good question, because she surely didn’t know. “Because I'm sure you don't mean to leave.”

“I don't,” She agreed, “But you look like you need a moment away from everything more than you need to breathe, and I don't have it in me to care right now.” And with that she tilted her head back against the wall and closed her eyes again, letting him make his choice.

She hoped he stayed, because her not caring was a bit of a fib. She couldn't help but care even though it was Malfoy, because anyone who looked like that was way too close to some kind of ledge they might not come back from. She’d have to be heartless not to care even a _little_ at that.

She opened her eyes to thin slits and saw that he had stayed, sitting against the wall directly opposite her and glaring.

She let her eyes close again, and wondered what the hell this screwed up situation was going to help.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next week the same thing happened, both of them winding up at the first floor bathroom after their lives had beat them in ways that left them unable to handle anything else.

Lavender and Ron had made up and had spent the better part of three days making out in every available corner, calling each other sickening nicknames and acting like the world didn’t exist out of each other’s mouths. Slughorn had oh so kindly told her that she didn’t need to be the best in all subjects to still be a bright and successful witch while looking at her worst potion to date, all the while Harry’s sat off to the side utterly _perfect_ in every way. Ginny had been out on the quittage pitch almost the entire week in an effort to avoid her brother and his girlfriend, and to get more practice in, and when Harry wasn’t trying to figure out a way to do as Dumbledore bid he was following the girl, happy to stay out all day long if it meant he could play quittage.

Even if it meant that Hermione was left alone to deal with Ron and Lavender because even Neville was gone, off to watch some rare plant bloom with Professor Sprout and help her harvest them.

And Draco was dealing with whatever he was dealing with, something so bad that he was reduced to spending time with _her_ and… It was incredibly confusing in the most exhausting way possible.

But then the holiday break was upon them and Hermione figured that it was the end of… Whatever that had been. It was time to go home, time to get away from whatever madness had caused them to be able to stomach each other’s presence.

Harry would be going with Ron to the burrow, and while Mrs. Weasley had invited her to join them Hermione just couldn’t accept the offer. She wasn’t as angry at Ron anymore, time and the fact that Lavender had made her feel so bad having taken the feeling away from her, but…

Christmas break was like taking a fresh breath of air, away from her friends and away from Hogwarts and away from _everything_ that came from dealing with both.

Maybe she was a terrible friend, maybe for the first time in her life she was dreading going back to her amazing magical boarding school, but maybe she also deserved a break.

Maybe. Hopefully.

“Oh Hermione, you parents just never stop talking about you,” Margaret, the desk worker at her parents’ dentist office, confided as Hermione helped her with a bit of the filing while waiting for her parents to get off for lunch so that they could go together. “Every chance they get they talk about how you’re the top of your class at that fancy boarding school of yours, or how pretty you’ve gotten and how wonderfully you’ve grown up.” The woman laughs at Hermione’s blush, a deep, gutsy thing.

“Thanks, Mrs. Breasby.” Hermione coughed and averted her eyes, focusing intently on her filing, “But… It’s not really that big of a deal.”

“Oh, nonsense.” The older woman protested, continuing on while Hermione sat there, more than a little bit uncomfortable with the praise and matronly attention.

Her parents eventually came out once their patients had gone, and with a grateful sigh Hermione followed them down the street for some curry. Merlin, but she had missed the simple muggle foods she could never get at school. Pumpkin juice and full roasts every night were fine and well but… Well…

Oh, she just wanted some greasy fish and chips, a bowl of cereal in the morning… There was a long list of things she had to systematically shove into her face and savor over the course of the break.

“Is anything going on at school that you haven’t told us about?” Her mother asked once they’d been served and Hermione shrugged, looking at her food instead of her parents.  
“Ron has a girlfriend.” She mumbled, and her father made a noise of surprise.

“Really? That’s good for him. What’s she like?”

Hermione shrugged again, “She’s fine.” She lied through her teeth, “She… She really likes him.” She finally settled on, and her parents made a happy sound.

“It’s wonderful he found someone who would want to be with him instead of trying to use him to get close to Harry.” Her mother remarked, and Hermione blinked at her, shocked.

“Would something like that really happen?” She asked, aghast. Her mother nodded with a knowing purse of her lips.

“Oh yes. One time, in dentistry school, a girl in my class dated a man just because he was the brother of a well-known writer she was a fan of. He was devastated when he found out.” Her father nodded along, so Hermione took a breath and nodded too because that was important. That was so important and she’d never even thought of it like that before.

No matter her personal feelings, no matter how she felt about Lavender, at least Lavender liked Ron for Ron.

Her parents went back to work after their lunch finished, but Hermione declined to join them and instead wandered around London for a bit, having missed the rush of it. The people at every turn, the noise and bustle, the way that nothing ever seemed to stand still. It was an exhilarating change of pace.

The wizarding world was amazing and she was so honored that she could be a part of it but the muggle world, with its fast pace and the technology and jeans – robes were fine, but they were a bit tiring after a while – was so incredible that she could never separate herself from it.

She explored shops, poking at the newly released technologies and movies, listening to the latest and most popular music. She bought new clothes since she’d already outgrown what she’d had during the summer, and she needed new sweaters anyways. She wandered and grew content, a little out of her depths as she had always been since she’d been separated from this world at 11 but it was… It was easier than school was at the moment.

Some days it felt like anything would be easier than how school was at the moment.

She’d gotten her learner’s permit so some of the break was spent learning to handle the family car, her father gripping his seat tightly and her mother speaking so evenly it was obvious that she wasn’t as relaxed as she could have been. But Hermione’s smile couldn’t seem to go away, and she laughed happily as she managed to perfectly pull into a parking space on only her second go. Her mother clapped, applauding the success and her happiness, and her father wiped the sweat from his forehead in a way that was more than a little insulting, and Hermione made sure to tell him so.

They went to the movies together, watching old black and whites during special showings and the newer movies every Tuesday night. They visited friends and went on day trips when they could, letting Hermione drive through the country side for a few hours at a time. They went shopping together in antique shops, and it was so calming to be back in the world she had been born into originally.

And she had missed her parents, had missed their arguments over the answers to quiz shows and the way they would leave books they thought she would like laying on her bed. She had missed her fathers’ breakfasts and her mother’s dinners, had missed how easy it was just to lay around and read, the sunlight shining through her lace curtains she’d had since she was seven warming her. She’d missed her favorite seat in the breakfast nook, had missed her grandmother’s knitted throw that always laid over the back of the couch. She’d missed watching old episodes of Doctor Who with her father, her head laying comfortably on his arm, and had missed learning to knit with her mother and gossiping the day away.

She’d missed how good everything could be when she wasn’t so worried about so many things.

“Maggie says her son’s gotten into a bad sort of crowd,” Her mother confided one day over tea, and Hermione snorted, lifting the hand petting Crookshanks to cover her mouth a moment to try and muffle the sound. The cat grumbled at her until she returned to her duty of petting him diligently, scratching him between his ears in apology.

“Danny?” She laughed incredulously, and her mother nodded with a mischievous quirk of her lips.

“But, then again, Maggie is almost certain that if you wear too much black you’ve become a degenerate so…” She shrugged and Hermione laughed, long and hard, at the image of skinny little Danny – who’d fainted once during a medical drama because of all the needles – falling in with a bad crowd.

As her mother talked of the various stories that had come up in their months apart Hermione found herself smiling absently and listening with half an ear, studying the scratched top of the table that had sat in the kitchen since before she’d been born.

“Hey mum?” Hermione quietly interrupted.

“Hm?”

“There’s… Something weird is going on at school.”

“Oh? At your magical castle in Scotland? I never would have imagined something _weird_ happening there.” Her mother snickered, and Hermione huffed a light laugh, a small smile at the edges of her mouth.

“Mum,” She scolded, though the fact that she sounded so amused took away the majority of the impact. “I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright. What’s the matter?”

“It’s just… There’s this boy who’s always been awful to us this whole time, really truly awful, but this year he’s been… Something’s wrong with him, and he’s been upset and has been not as awful as he usually is and he’s… I just don’t understand it! Because he’s hated me all these years but he’s acting differently now. But not a good different a… Sad different.” There didn’t seem to be anything good about how Draco was now, from what she had seen. He was sad and angry and almost violent – though so far not physically so – with his feelings, a terrible sort of desperate that had nowhere to go and that could only fester.

“Something has probably happened to him that has changed his outlook. It’s…” Her mother paused, searching for the right words, treating her daughter’s concern seriously and delicately, “People don’t stay the same all throughout their lives, and usually all it takes is either time or something tragic to happen for a person to look at themselves and wonder if that is how they really want to be.”

“So you’re saying that he’s just not awful anymore? That I should help him?” Hermione questioned, more than a little confused by the situation and the advice her mother was giving her. Her mother blew out a heavy breath.

“I’m saying that he might be going through something that is making him rethink things about himself. It’s up to you to decide whether or not you want to help him through those things and see what he’ll be like at the end of what he’s going through. I don’t know the situation well enough to guide you properly, love, so you’ll just have to trust those lovely instincts of yours.”

Hermione sighed and sipped at her tea, wishing that her mother could have been a bit more helpful than telling her to just trust in herself. She wanted real advice, not just a cliché. She wanted for someone to tell her what to do so that she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

Sadly, it seemed that she wasn’t going to get that, so she’d just have to take the rest of the break to think it over, and try come to a decision before she went back to school.

  
In the meantime, with her homework finished and a bit of free time on her hands, she would have to find something to occupy her new free time with. Luckily, her favorite used bookstore was just a bus ride away and she had plenty of money saved up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I've grown not to like from the Harry Potter universe over the years is how everything about the muggle world is ignored or seemingly hated, even when a lot of things in the wizarding world are extremely outdated in ways that can be fixed by modern technology. So Hermione appreciates parts of both worlds, because it's the only reasonable thing to do.


	4. Maybe We Can Be Reasonable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes a resloution when she returns back to school, but finds that she's unable to keep it for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello chickadees! Someone kindly pointed out that I was spelling Quidditch wrong (and the internet told me that it had to be capitalized at all times), so that will be fixed from here on out.

Once everyone was back at Hogwarts most things were the same as when they had left, though there were some differences. Classes were a bit harder in preparation of the O.W.L.’s and N.E.W.T.’s and nearly everyone was a bit more stressed out because of it. Apparition lessons were an exciting step into their adult lives, and the romantic lives of the two youngest Weasley’s were in turmoil, but Hermione was happy with all of these changes.

The happiness that came with that last one was felt with a small bit of shame, though. One she attempted to ignore as best as she could.

And she had come to a decision over the break, deciding that her brief… _Silences_ together with Draco were done with. He had probably come to his senses over the break, or had figured it out on his own. There was no reason for these completely strange and fruitless meetings to continue, so they weren’t.

But she still couldn’t stop thinking about it even after this decision had been made, wondering what had affected him, and if it still bothered him. Wondering why they had both consented to being around each other, why being around someone she honestly somewhat loathed was preferable sometimes to being around her friends.

 _He doesn’t expect anything from you._ Her brain hissed at her, and Hermione wondered if that was really it. If it all was really so simple and stupid.

But her mind had latched on like the situation was a puzzle she had to solve, and despite telling herself that she wouldn’t she found herself wandered down to the first floor bathroom on Thursday night as she had for those two weeks the last term. And she told herself that she hadn’t expected to find Draco there, sitting in his usual spot and staring at where she would normally be, an anxious Myrtle floating around him, but she knew when she was lying to herself.

“You’re nice, right?” He spits out without looking up at her, the words thrown from his lips like a curse. Hermione remembers Myrtle that first day, mocking her even as she asked for help.

_Nice, nice, nice._

“Some people say that.” She hesitantly agrees, uncertain of her footing now that he’d changed the game by talking to her.

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? Being nice to try and get me over to Potter’s side?” He asked almost desperately, jaw clenched and his eyes fierce. He looked like he was about to go into battle, or like he had just lost one. He looked angry and desperate and Hermione couldn’t help but stare, a little amazed at just how stupid this theory of his was.

Amazed even more by the fact that he actually seemed to believe it.

“That’s ridiculous,” She scoffed, going over to her usual seat and ignoring Myrtle’s glaring as the ghost floated between the two wizards, “Harry has nothing to do with… Whatever this is.”

“Then what are you getting out of this? Because you have never wanted to willingly be around me, and there are limits to how nice even a person like you can be.” He hissed, and Hermione rolled her eyes at just how ridiculous he was being.

If he continued on, his conspiracy theories might reach Harry’s level.

“The same could be said about you to me. And it’s not… It’s not like I’m doing this selflessly. This is one of the only spots where no one in the school will come – well, except for you, apparently. And I don’t have to do anything for you except sit here and be annoyed that you’re such a prat, while out there people are expecting things I don’t currently…I just need some time to think.” She huffed, cutting herself off before she could delve too deeply into her personal feelings.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Malfoy scoffed, and Hermione saw that there was no winning with him so she more than happily attempted to go back to their usual angry silences.

But then she remembered her mother telling her that people didn’t say the same, that they could change either with time or if the situation was terrible enough. And she might hate him for everything he stood for and everything he had done to her and her friends in the past, but she didn’t hate him enough to just leave this alone.

He was horrible but he wasn’t evil, and maybe she really was nice.

“I’m not all nice.” Hermione huffed, earning a scoff that she glared at. “I’m not!”

“Please. Harry Potter and his little friends are nice little do-gooders. Everyone knows that.”

Hermione glared, cheeks puffed out for a moment because how _dare_ he look down at her. She’d show him…

“I do too much works on my assignments, sometimes.” Hermione announces, throwing it out like it was definitive proof of her not-niceness. Though, Draco’s disbelieving look led her to believe that it wasn’t as rock solid as she had believed.

“Are you serious?” He asked flatly and Hermione sniffed, not appreciating his tone.

_“Yes.”_

“Oh no, you do your school work. It’s like you’re out of control.” Draco bit out meanly, and Hermione flushed angrily at the snap in his voice, her jaw clenching as she rose up without another thought to the challenge.

“The professors are required to read over all of our work, and if they don’t we can complain about it to the heads of our houses. So when a professor is being rude or just… terrible, I’ll do all of the work for the class but then I’ll overdo it. They’ll ask for seven inches and I’ll do fifteen, and if they don’t give me a perfect score on it I can wait until after class to contest it so that they have to go over it again, this time with me. And if…” She flushes, feeling a bit embarrassed now that she was saying it out loud but unable to stop, “And if they do something I don’t particularly like I’ll research into something they said in class and question them on it the next time, hoping that they’ll trip up so that I can catch them. The thing that people who think that they’re smart hate the most is being proven wrong, especially in front of a crowd, so I… Do that...”

Draco stares at her, not angry but… Intense.

“So… Not that nice.” She finishes a bit weakly, clearing her throat and looking away.

Their silence is reinstated, and Hermione is grateful for it.

 

* * *

 

What was wrong with Draco Malfoy? Why did he go to hide with Myrtle? What could bother him that much? He seemed like the sort of person to ignore his emotions and bottle everything up inside, focusing mostly on being an attention grabbing prat. But something had happened that was bad enough to make him throw all of that aside and breakdown somewhere where people could have easily found him. And he had been found out, that was the most telling thing of this whole confusing situation. The fact that he was even willing to be near her, even if it was from the other side of the room while glaring at her, meant that whatever was affecting him was something really, really bad.

Hermione was shocked away from her musings when a wad of parchment hit her right in the middle of her forehead, and she blinked the world back into focus, remembering that she was hanging out with Ginny.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermione apologized, assuming the smirking red head had been talking to her, “What were you saying?”

“Nothing really,” Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes and slouching back into her seat, “And before we talk about anything else we should probably get past whatever you’re stuck on. So go on.” She prompted, waving a hand to usher her on, and Hermione gnawed on her lip for an uncertain moment before caving.

“Have you noticed anything off about Malfoy this year?” She asked in a rush, a little embarrassed to even be asking about it and sure something would show about her secret meetings with him on her face. But she needed to work through this, needed to figure this out to feel like she was no more even footing.

Ginny shot her a disbelieving look, “Are you seriously joining Harry’s _‘he’s a Death Eater’_ crusade?”

“No!” Hermione rushed to assure her, “It’s just… Something seems off about him. Not Death Eater off but… I’m,” _Worried._ But how could she say that? Why would Hermione Granger be worried about Draco Malfoy?

“Fine,” Ginny sighs, rolling her eyes and obviously not believing her, but she tilts her head in thought. “Well… He showed up at Slughorn’s Christmas and that wasn’t exactly normal for him. A bit too desperate for him, you know? And Blaise Zambini mentioned to Luna that Draco hasn’t been around anyone this term.”

“He told _Luna_ that?” Hermione asked, so shocked by this that she couldn’t even put it into words. Ginny laughed, big and loud and unapologetic about her glee.

“Oh, yeah, those two. I have no idea how it started since Luna refuses to tell me, but I’m pretty sure it was an accident. He gets weirdly relaxed around her, and I’m pretty sure he’s gotten to believing some of the stuff she talks about. Apparently they have pretty deep talks that Luna is tight-lipped about, but I overheard him say the thing about Draco when I hung out with them once. He said he wasn’t happy to have lost his wizarding chess opponent, and Luna told him that it was fine since wizmuts are more likely to be drawn to people who mentally strain themselves in those games.” She laughs again, “And he looked like he was considering it!”

“Oh,” Hermione said quietly, considering this.

“And sometimes when Harry’s on about the Death Eater thing during meals I look over at the Slytherin table and Malfoy looks a little off, yeah, but I just always assumed that was his face.” Ginny shrugged, and Hermione cracked the smile she knew was expected from her.

“So on another note,” Ginny eagerly moved on, figuring they were done with that conversation for good, “I’m rethinking things between Dean and me.”  
Hermione did her part in the conversation, but mentally she couldn’t move on that easily, rolling her newly gotten information around in her head. Draco was pulling away from his friends and doing things he never would have done before, and she didn’t know what it meant or what was causing it and she didn’t have the right to ask. If she did he’d just leave and something just didn’t feel right about that. She didn’t know what would happen or what he’d do and if she couldn’t keep an eye on him…

So what could she do?

What was she willing to do was the real question, she supposed, because this whole situation was off and had her uneasy, uncertain of her footing and what she was doing. After all, she couldn’t be doing this, could she? This was Draco Malfoy, who had been rude and insufferable and downright cruel all throughout their shared past and she should just leave it alone. He’d done just fine without her in his life before this and it certainly didn’t seem like he was happy she was there at the moment.

But each week he was looking worse and worse, dark smudges under his eyes and his cheeks drawn, his clothes just slightly out of place or un-pressed in a way he would have never allowed before. And on the day she walked in to see his collar unbuttoned and his tie loose, head back on the wall and his eyes closed in exhaustion, looking weak to anyone who might have come, she knew it was maybe worse than she had let herself believe.

She wanted to say something, a silly impulse that just wouldn’t go away, and was trying to think of something when he suddenly surprised her by speaking first. Again.

“What’s it like, being friends with perfect Harry Potter?” He asks wearily, and Hermione wondered why this was what he wanted to talk about. Why _this_ was what broke their silence.

“It’s fine.” She shrugged, picking at a piece of lint on her skirt, “What’s it like being friends with Crabbe and Goyle?”

He snorted, such an inelegant sound that suited his current look but didn’t suit the image she held of him in her mind, and cracked his eyes open to give her a look that was actually _amused._ “I wouldn’t call them friends. They’re just… There.”

And oh, this was just… Much sadder than she expected.

They were silent for a moment as Hermione considered just letting it stop there but something prompted her to open her mouth and state, “Not everything is perfect, though.”

His eyebrow lifted, a bit of interest lighting his face, and she bit her lip and wished that she hadn’t said anything and that she could just stop talking. But for some reason she just… Couldn’t.

“With Harry everything is fine – well, not fine but that’s nothing, really – but Ron… Ron has been dating Lavender Brown for a while.”

Draco snorted again, “The whole bloody school is aware of that, obviously.” He says dryly, a bit of his usual dickishness coming back. Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes.

“I _know,_ right?” Hermione sniffed, warming up to the topic now that it felt like she was talking to a like-minded individual, “And they’re even worse in Gryffindor tower, like they think we all want to see them shove their tongues down each other’s throats.”

“I can see why that would annoy a person.” Draco agreed like this was a normal conversation for them to be having, and she shifted in place.

“Well, that isn’t the part that bothers me the most. Not really.” She admits, and he stares at her for an intense moment before a huge grin splits his face in a painful way that just shows how long it had been since he’d done such a thing. And then he starts to laugh.

“You and the _weasel?_ Are you serious?” He laughed and she huffed, glaring at him as she crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air like this topic didn’t bother her at all.

“Yes, well, what of it?” She asked, her voice a bit too high pitched and stressed, though she pretended like she didn’t notice in the hopes that he would too.

“It’s just,” Draco wheezed around his laugh, looking so different from how she had always seen the horrible Draco Malfoy it was alarming, “And trust me when I say that it pains me to say this, you could do so much better.”

Hermione flushes and scowls at the same time, taking both the compliment and the insult and not really knowing what to do with them.

“Ron is perfectly fine, thank you. It’s just… He’s truly been a bit of a prat, recently. First at the Yule ball he thought I couldn’t get a date and then got upset that I went with Viktor, and _then_ he gets upset about Slughorn’s Christmas party and me getting into the Slug Club – like I’m happy about it,” She explodes, throwing her hands up in the air, “It’s pretentious and Slughorn is horrible, showing preferential treatment to the students he thinks can give him prestige and presents after school. I hate it! But Ron,” Hermione huffs, pivoting back on topic, “Ron just gets so horrible about it all and then he starts dating Lavender and it makes me horrible and I hate it! I really, really do!”

She sags back into the wall and Draco watches at her, considering.

“Why are you telling me any of this? I could easily go out there and spread it around the school in the most embarrassing – for you – way possible.” He pointed out suspiciously after a moment, and Hermione met his gaze straight on, having figured this out for herself as she had talked.

“Because right now what we have here is a relationship of mutually assured destruction.” She tells him, not letting herself flinch from him or the situation, fisting her hands around a bit of the fabric of her skirt to keep herself steady. “So now neither of us can do anything about it.”

He looks at her with something akin to respect before he looks away, considering the ceiling.

“If you don’t like who he is or who you are when you two are dealing with each other you should just get over it,” He tells her like it was so easy, more than a little bit of judgement in his tone, “Realize that you can do better. It’s your own fault if you can’t get over it.”

“You can’t just turn off feelings, Malfoy. That’s not how it works.”

“Says the over emotional Gryffindor. If you were Slytherin, you’d know better.” He tells her snottily, and Merlin, he’s terrible.

“Oh, piss off. And Ron isn’t horrible, you know,” Hermione snaps, “He’s kind, and brave, and-”

“And so what? If you can’t stand yourself when you like him, imagine how you’ll be in an actual relationship with him.” He sniffs, acting like this was so beneath him and like he wasn’t sitting on the floor of a girl’s bathroom that was haunted by the ghost of a terrible girl. “You’d both be even more insufferable than you are now and nobody wants that, Granger.”

Hermione huffed, but it gave her something to think over.

 

* * *

 

Laying in the dark that night, staring up at her canopy with the sounds of the other girls’ soft snores and Pavarti’s mumbling surrounding her, Hermione allowed herself to think about what Malfoy had said like it had been actual advice, not just something the boy had thrown out to get her to shut up, or to mess with her.

She… She didn’t like how she acted around Ron these days. It used to be so easy and simple but then these _feelings_ happened and she started saying terrible things and acting in ways she didn’t like. And she was pretty sure Ron did too, because while he could be an insensitive ass at times it had never been this bad. And she’d been horrible to Lavender, who really didn’t deserve it, and felt more than a little guilty about that.

When had it changed? When had she stopped seeing Ron as Ron and had started to act like a fool about everything involving him? When had he started to treat her like she wasn’t his friend?

And would they only get worse if they got together? If they ever got to the point that they could…

She was so confused, and apparently she didn’t have anyone to talk to except Draco Malfoy. Ginny was Ron’s sister, and while Hermione was one-hundred percent certain that wouldn’t make her biased toward Ron there was a chance that the girl could be biased toward her. It was a toss-up if she would get anything useful from Luna, and Harry… Maybe Harry.


	5. Sharing is Difficult, but Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione talks to Harry, and then she and Draco open up just a bit more to one another.

Harry’s advice was rarely very useful, and usually he was worried about life and death matters that really made your own problems seem trivial in comparison, so she truthfully wasn’t expecting much to come of this. But she needed something, really just needed him to be there for her for her own peace of mind and who knew, maybe there would be some sage advice in there somewhere. Draco had kind of surprised her, so maybe it was his turn.

So the next night she walked up him as he tried to figure out a way to get Slughorn’s secrets in the common room, muttering to himself as he scratched notes on a bit of parchment. And she hadn’t even started, but she was already questioning her decision to do this with him.

But she was stubborn. Maybe not as smart as she wanted to be all the time, but certainly stubborn, so she’d see where that got her.

“Harry?” She asks evenly, hands clasped in front of her, fingers weaved tightly through one another, “Can we talk?”

“Course. Go ahead. ‘M listening.” He muttered, not even bothering to look up at her, and she rolled her eyes upward and reminded herself that she had to talk to someone who was not Draco Malfoy.

“Not here.” She huffed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the common room, ignoring his protests as she dragged him through the portrait and then down the hall to an unused classroom, shutting and locking the door behind them.

“Hermione, what’s-“ Was as far as he got before he found himself with his arms filled with his best friend, her arms tight around his back and her face pressed into his neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” She gasped, tears nearly slipping through her gasp because she’d hidden it from him for so long and she just needed to let it _go,_ “I’m so confused.”

“That’s a first,” He laughed weakly, his arms coming up around her to gently hold her together, smoothing one hand up and down her back in an awkward but still somewhat soothing manner.

“Ron,” She croaked, and Harry tensed in her hold, “I… I don’t think we’re right. Together.”

“You’re not together.” He pointed out a bit stupidly, but gently, and she sniffled.

“I know. But… The way we act, him toward me and me toward him and Lavender… It’s not right.” She choked out, pressing her face further into his neck and wishing everything could just be easy. Wishing that feelings didn’t have to ruin everything.

“Hermione,” He sighed like he was going to contradict her, one hand going up to smooth down the back of her hair. She shakes her head violently, squeezing him even tighter and making sure her face was hidden.

“Don’t lie to me,” She whispered, “I know we’ve changed around each other.”

“I’m sure it would change if you got together,” He said like it would help, but for her it only made it worse because hadn’t she thought along those same lines before?

“You can’t know that.” She pointed out hoarsely, and she felt the deep breath Harry took, almost felt him thinking everything over.

“No,” He finally agreed, quiet and very sorry, “I cant.”

She already knew that, of course she did. So why did that little bit of confirmation break her heart?

“What was it like when you finally got with Cho?” Hermione asked after a minute of sniffling, “You’d built it up so much in your head…” _Like I have with Ron,_ “And you thought you liked her so much…” _Like I do, with Ron._

“It was sad.” Harry admitted after a too long silence. “It was just really, really sad. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. There was more crying involved then I thought there would be.” He noted the last dryly, and managed to get a weak hiccup of a laugh for his efforts.

“What if it’s like that with me and Ron? What if we can’t be friends after it?” Silence. “You know how bad it has been now and… Harry, I don’t want that.” Their friendship – the one between all three of them, but also just between her and Ron – was worth so much to her that she didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize it.

“I think…” Harry paused and sighed, wrapping her up a bit more firmly, less like she was fragile and more like he was wanting to protect her, “I think you’ve already made your decision.”

“What a shit thing to say.” Hermione croaked out before laughing, Harry joining in after a moment. They pulled away from each other, him looking down at her probably horrendous looking face for a bit before drawing his sweater’s sleeve over his hand and scrubbing at her face until she laughed again, lightly pushing him away.

“You’re my best mate, ‘Mione,” He said seriously once she had stopped, and it was almost enough to get her crying again because this was what she had needed. This was why she loved Harry so, so much. “No matter what, that won’t change.”

“Thanks,” She sniffed out, drawing him back in for another happier, briefer hug.

 

* * *

 

Hermione slid carefully taken class notes for all of the classes she knew he had across the floor, pretending to look away as he went over them, but watching from the corner of her eye as surprise briefly flashed over his features before his face closed off.

Flipping through the pages, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn together, Draco looked stiffer than he ever had in all their weeks meeting up.

“You used to be in the top percent of our year but…” Don’t mention what might be going on, don’t mention that you’ve noticed anything, “It seems you’ve been slacking off recently so,” She motioned to the notes now in his hands.

“And you’re just doing this from the kindness of your heart?” He practically growled, hands tight on the parchment but not ripping it.

“You did say I was nice.” Hermione pointed out, but then shrugged, decidedly not looking at him, “But you gave me some somewhat helpful advice last time so I figured this would be a sufficient thank you.” She knew that he was thinking, _‘What a Slytherin thing to do,’_ But she figured if anything he’d appreciate that.

Well, if she thought that was going to get her an answer she had certainly been wrong. Their usual silence returned and Hermione resolved to return to thinking over whatever information she needed to be prepared in class the next day, as she had done during all of the other silence filled meetings. This time it was the directions to brewing the potion they would be going over the next class.

“My mother…” Draco interrupted their silence a few long minutes in, “Is…” But he trailed off, going nowhere with it, and the lost look on his face told her he was probably going to stay there. Hermione could practically see him closing back down, and considered whether to just let him or pressing him to finish his thought. But she expected neither would end very well.

“What’s your mother like?” Hermione asked instead, truthfully expecting the suspicious look this earns her. A long, angry silence again, and Hermione decides to just push through it a bit inelegantly, taking a page from Harry’s book. It always seemed to work out well for him.

“Mine’s a dentist – a muggle teeth healer – along with my dad. She’s nice, though my dad’s impossibly nicer, and she likes to play the piano when she can. She also gardens when the weather’s nice enough, though we don’t have anything too big. Just a bed of herbs, some rose bushes, and planters of various things all over the house. She has a truly horrible sense of humor, always laughing over things that just don’t make sense, and she’s a horrible gossip. Every time I go home I have to make sure to sit with her for a couple of hours to make sure that she has enough time to go over everything that happened when I’d been gone.” She rambled, not sure she could stop now that she’d started. It was like she just didn’t have an off switch

Sometimes she forgot how much she missed her family until she got to talking about them.

“My mother,” Draco interrupts again, licking his lips in an atypical sign of nervousness, “Is the bravest person I know.” He says with a sense of finality, like each of the words had been a weight he had had to bear for far too long.

And the look on his face at that, the heaviness of how he says it… She can’t really bring herself to say anything.

“She manages the manor – which isn’t easy, you know. She handles the finances, the house elves, the charities, and the parties and events, and… She is the reason I wanted to be a Slytherin. I’ve seen her manipulate entire crowds of people so that she could get what she wanted in the end, and I have seen her take the business ventures she gets involved in and build them up until they’re more than anything they could have been without her.”

If there was one thing she had never expected from Draco, it was to see him talk about someone with that much love. Which, wasn't that kind of awful? He was a person, of course he felt love.

“What does she like to do?” She questioned, wanting him to keep that look on his face. It seemed to just breathe life into him, and it was a nice change to his now normal pallor and gloom.

“She does all the typical pureblood wife things,” He says like she's supposed to know what those are, and like it doesn't sound completely offensive, “She plays piano too, studies languages, collects antiques.” He shrugs, and Hermione snorts at how pretentious it sounds.

“No, you knob,” The term slipping out accidentally, neither of them expecting the wholly inoffensive way she said it, “I’m asking what she likes to do, not what she’s been _trained_ for.”

Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes and goes through all the motions, in the end hesitating for just a moment before replying.

“She's amazing at wizarding chess, and she hides it but she draws when she's bored. My father has something I think she did framed on his desk.” He gets quiet after that, and Hermione wonders if it was from the mention of his father.

“What about yours?” He asks, truly surprising her and throwing her so much that she can’t manage to speak for almost a full half a minute.

“My mum likes to garden, like I said, and play the piano. We have more plants in our house than any other place I’ve ever been to that isn’t a green house, and a little herb garden that she babies more than me behind the house. If we had room for more, there would be more.” She tells him truthfully, wondering at the sudden interest in her muggle parents. “My dad likes trains and has at least a hundred books on them. I remember,” She laughed, getting lost for a moment in her memories, “He’d take me with him on trips, or we’d make a family day out of it to go see or ride all these different trains.”

“That sounds dull,” He snorted and Hermione smiled, still stuck a bit in the memories.

“It was,” She agreed warmly, which somehow managed to shut him up for the rest of their time together.

 

* * *

 

Their meetings became much more frequent.

She told him about Harry and his book - not saying it was Harry who was doing it, just that there was someone using a book with different instructions to shortcut their way through class. He could guess who it was, but she'd never confirm it. Harry and Ron still had her loyalty above everyone else.

The book just _really_ bothered her and she had to get it of her chest.

She made sure to stress that she thought it was dangerous, but she knew he could tell that it wasn't the only thing bothering her about it. He suggested she steal it and either use it herself or get rid of it, the latter of which she considered for a moment before dismissing it. It would only make Harry more paranoid.

He told her about distancing himself from the people she always thought of as his friends, about how he'd become aware of just how different they were recently. She wouldn't tell him how or why, but she told him that she'd heard from a friend that Blaise was at least worried about him. He considered this, but seemed to dismiss it.

She talked a bit more about Ron, and he told her more about his mother. She told him a bit about the things she did outside of school - not too much, worried it would bring her muggle-born-ness to his attention and ruin the strange truce they had arrived at. He would tell her about how disillusioned he’d become with Quidditch, though there was a bit of a ring of falseness to that one.

Then they'd started talking about more general thing to fill their silences, the conversations nowhere near easy, but they managed. They talked about classes and books, observations they had made and some of their opinions on things.

It seemed that now that she had an outlet that didn't affect her life to much she just couldn't stop using it.

“Do you remember the bogarts third year?” She questioned, not talking about Ron because it was his birthday the next day and she was going to be a good friend and not complain about him until after.

“Hard to forget the sight of Snape in those clothes.” He said dryly, and Hermione snorted.

“Well, I think mine would have changed.”

“Oh? Into something more interesting, I hope.” He snickers.

“The most terrifying thing about being the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter with Voldemort resurging isn’t what’ll happen to me. I’ve already accepted that and have chose to go through with everything.” She says quietly, silencing the boy quicker than she had thought possible, “But… My parents haven’t. They're just two London dentists who don't know anything about any of this because I've kept everything from them. They… I know how the Death Eaters work, I've read up on how they operated during the last war and I know that they'll go after my parents. I know what they’ll do to them if they're caught. And it is the most terrifying thing I have ever known I my entire life.” She confides like the knowledge alone was killing her, and it was in a way.

It's the first and only time Draco just stands up and walks out.


	6. Out Comes the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns several secrets and must decide what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bad for not posting on Friday! I forgot what day it was, and then I got busy moving back to school and knitting. Here's both chapters!

Seeing Ron lying unconscious in the infirmary bed puts everything in perspective in a way that a million conversations would never have managed.

She loved Ron, she had developed feelings for Ron, but before any of that he was one of her best friends and she had forgotten that. She’d been so focused on the whole mess of everything that had been happening, had been so focused on jealousy and anger and disappointment, that she had lost sight of what Ron really was to her.

“What’s _she_ doing here?” Lavender cried when she caught sight of Hermione by Ron’s bedside. Hermione huffed, more than a little outraged by the question and her tone.

“I’m his friend!”

“Well, I’m his girlfriend! And you haven't been a very good friend recently, have you? You barely talk to him and when you do it always ends in a shouting match!” She pointed out shrilly, fists at her sides and looking well and truly outraged. Hermione took this in, as well as Madame Pomfrey hurrying to the scene they were making and Harry standing uncomfortably between them and she deflates, practically sagging into herself.

“I know.” She sighed, causing everyone to look at her with more than a fair bit of shock.

“You do?” Lavender questioned, Harry mouthing the words with her, and Hermione sluggishly nodded.

“But I want to change all of that,” She admitted quietly, holding tight to Ron’s limp hand, “I want to be his friend again. And we can always just sit here with him together, as his friend and his girlfriend.”

Lavender watched her for a moment, considering, before visibly cracking and sitting down on Ron’s other side, leaving Harry standing and staring at the two of them as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. The two girls shared a tentative smile to seal their new truce, and then Ron had to go and ruin it by sighing Hermione’s name instead of his girlfriend’s.

“Damn it Ron,” Hermione cursed as the other girl ran away in tears, ignoring the little flare of warmth in her chest.

Harry continued to stand there, more than a little uncertain and awkward.

 

* * *

 

She was running late for her and Draco’s usual meeting time, but she figured her excuse of checking on a recently poisoned friend would be good enough for anyone, even Draco Malfoy.

And he probably knew, anyways. News of what had happened to Ron was all over the school.

When Hermione entered the bathroom Draco wasn’t in his usual spot, which threw her more than she had expected. Instead he was at the sinks, braced against them as he looked into his reflection while Myrtle floated anxiously around him, though she disappeared with a sniff when she saw Hermione.

“You're the sort to forgive people,” He started hoarsely and confusingly, not even looking at her. “I mean, you coming here all the time is example enough of that.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione started, though she was swiftly interrupted.

“I don't,” He choked, clearing his throat and starting again, looking away from his reflection with a confusing and concerning bit of shame, “I don't want to do this anymore.”

His voice was a shattered wreck, difficult to handle for fear of breaking it anymore. Hermione stepped forward anyway.

“Tell me, and I’ll help.” She vows, remembering that first day, remembering her initial promise to Myrtle. He finally looks at her at this, face haggard and eyes bloodshot and looking like the force of her conviction could topple him. “I promise.”

There's an almost painful quirk to his lip as he looks down and unbuttons his sleeve, a battle-ready set to his shoulders as he rolls his sleeve up to reveal what Hermione was already denying.

“I'm sorry about your friend.” He turned, and she only caught a glimpse of the mark on his arm before his words sent her running, panic welling up as she realized that Harry had been right. As she realized that she had spent weeks sitting with him like he wasn’t… Like he wasn’t…

“He’ll kill my parents if I don't,” He called out, a drowning man calling out for a life preserver he didn't expect to get.

She froze, her fingers clenching tightly around the door’s handle as she almost physically ached to continue her escape. Part of her screamed that it was a trap, but the rest of her remembered every time he'd talked about his mother, the love in his every word and gesture. She remembered her own confession, the desperate fear she felt at the thought of losing her family and how it had affected him so much that he had just left.

She inched back around the corner, taking in Draco’s defeated posture with no small amount of shock.

“You poisoned Ron?” She questioned, stomach threatening to riot when he nodded his head.

“Accidentally,” He admitted quietly, buttoning his sleeve back up to hide it. She was grateful that she didn’t have to see it, but also angry about it because how dare he be able to hide it so easily? How dare he be able to trick her so easily?

“And Katie? Was she an accident too?” Another nod, and Hermione breathed through her anger as it attempted to drown her.

There was only one thing she could do.

“Wait here,” She commanded, stepping back, “I’ll be back.” She promised, despite a part of herself viciously not wanting to. _You can just leave,_ her mind hissed at her, tempting her.

He opened his mouth to protest, and she violently shook her head to stop him.

“You’ve trusted me this much… Just trust me a little bit more.” She managed to whisper hoarsely, and he nodded like it was the most difficult thing he had ever done. And maybe it was, because walking up to the Gryffindor tower and over to Harry and not telling him what she now knew was definitely the hardest thing she had ever done.

“I need your cloak,” Hermione murmured in his ear, careful to not let the group sitting around him overhear, “And the password to Dumbledoor’s office.”

Harry jerked back, shocked. “W-What? Hermione, I can’t-“

“Harry, I need you to trust me.” She hissed urgently, staring him straight in the eyes and hoping that he could just let her do this and ask as few questions as possible. Because if he asked her she might crack and just tell him everything and she couldn’t predict what he’d do.

He stared back at her for the space of a few heartbeats before nodding, getting up without excusing himself from the conversation he had been having. It was a bit rude, but he seemed to understand her urgency and immediately went up the stairs to the dorms without asking another question. Hermione hurried after him, anxiously waiting at the foot of the stairs since she couldn’t go to the boy’s dorms because of the magical wards.

Harry came back down and held out the folded up cloak to her, though he didn’t release it when she tugged.

“I’m going with you,” He told her, his tone brooking no argument, and as tempted as she was by the idea of having his support – of having any kind of support, really – Hermione still shook her head, pulling on the cloak again, but not quite hard enough to manage to get it away from the boy.

“No, I have to do this by myself. But I promise I’ll be alright. I know what I’m doing.” She whispered, pulling again and hoping he wouldn’t notice her lie. They watched each other’s eyes for any sign of weakness from the other, but eventually Harry finally relented and let go.

“Caramel lolly,” He sighed and she gave him a brief, slightly felt smile before she hurried off to her own dorm, sighing in relief that the room was empty so she could just swing the cloak over herself and hurry back out.

She ran quickly, not worrying about people hearing her footsteps but not seeing a body, figuring that they would just assume that it was just one of Hogwarts’ many eccentricities. Stranger things had been passed off.

She had never managed to get to the first floor so fast, but despite that for some reason it felt like it had taken twice as long as usual. She burst through the door, turning the corner and staring at the empty space she had left Draco at with some small amount of shock.

Her gaze swept the room frantically, finding him after a blind moment sitting, strangely, in her usual spot. There was an anxious tick to his jaw and his eyes stared right through her, and he was coiled like a snake ready to strike, his wand held tightly in his hand.

“Malfoy,” She said tersely, jumping when he did, not understanding his surprise or the way his eyes were darting suspiciously around. Then she remembered she was invisible, and pulled off the cloak.

“What the hell?” Malfoy hissed, and she shot him a frigid glare, regretting everything that had led her to this moment.

“It’s just a cloak. People will ask questions if they see us together so,” She motioned for him to stand, and when he did she threw the cloak over his head with a perhaps too-large sense of satisfaction at his sound of distaste. She adjusted the fabric to cover him fully, and grabbed what felt like – and hopefully was – an arm, and began pulling him out of the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” Draco hissed as he went along willingly, if reluctantly. Hermione grit her teeth and wished that he wouldn’t talk to her, that he hadn’t – for some insane reason – trusted her with this whole cocked situation. There were so many people in the castle that would be less personally affected by this than she was, and have less person history with him than she did. There were so many better options, so why had he chose her?

“To Dumbledore.” She said shortly, finding herself jerked to a stop when he froze. In her surprise her grip tightened, which was good since a moment later he tried to jerk out of her grasp and get away.

“We- I can’t.” He almost seemed to gasp, sounding panicked and frantic, trying to pull away again. But Hermione was stronger than he was, surprisingly, and managed to keep a hold of him.

“You can.” She snapped, not having the patience to soothe him, what with the not so happy revelations she’d been given in the past hour. “Dumbledore is the strongest wizard of our time, and he’s the only person who would know what to do about… _this.”_ She hissed, jaw tightening and jerking him forward. “So we’re going to Dumbledore, and you’re to be _quiet_ about it because we need to do this before you hurt anyone else.” She declared angrily, jerking him again until he began to stumble after her, surprisingly following her instructions and falling silent as Hermione stewed in her anger.

He had… He had tricked her into thinking he was somehow a little bit different from how he had been when all along he’d been a Death Eater, hurting people – hurting Ron – and… and…

_“He’ll kill my parents if I don't,”_

They arrived at the eagle guarding the entrance of the headmaster’s office quicker than she had expected, her fury having sped up their journey. She took a bracing breath before saying the password, holding tightly onto Draco’s arm because she could sense his urge to bolt, could practically taste it on the air like a predator sensing weakness.

They trudged up the revealed stairs, and with another bracing breath Hermione knocked on the door.

“Enter.” The jovial voice of Dumbledore called, the door swinging open as he spoke to allow them entrance.

“Miss Granger,” He greeted her pleasantly, seated at his desk and apparently having been looking over some papers when they had interrupted, “I must say, I am surprised to find you here. Especially since I can’t seem to remember giving you the password. Though, I suppose I must have simply forgotten doing so in my old age.” He demurred, the light of knowing in his eyes letting her clearly know that he was fully aware that was not what had happened.

“I,” Her face flushed and her gut tightened in the way it always did when a professor disapproved of her, “I got it from Harry. But I didn’t give him a choice, sir.”

“I had assumed,” He tilted his head, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, “What can I do for you?”

“I…” She took a breath and tore the cloak off of Draco, “We need your help, Sir.”

Draco, she was surprised to see, was staring down at the ground, his jaw ticking and his shoulders tensed so much they were almost up to his ears. He strangely looked tired and beaten down, not angry and belligerent like she’d thought he’d be. Like she’d thought he’d been the entire march up to the headmaster’s office.

“I see,” Dumbledore said like he truly did, which was a bit confusing because Hermione wasn’t even sure she knew what was going on and she was involved in the situation.

“Miss Granger, could you leave us, please?”

Hermione’s agreement was balanced on the tip of her tongue, mere moments away from falling, when Draco spoke, his voice rough and almost uncertain.

“No.” He croaked, still not looking up, “She stays.” He demanded, a small bit of strength threading through those three words.

Hermione and Dumbledore stared at him for a shocked moment before the elderly man said, almost gently, “I think it best-“

“She stays.” Draco demands, voice strong now with his resolve as he looks up, his eyes hard as he stared down Dumbledore like he was a threat.

And, well, neither of them could seem to argue with that.

They sat down in the chairs across from Dumbledore’s desk, Hermione sinking back in hers and wondering what her role was supposed to be now as Draco balanced on the edge of his, looking like he was ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.

“Tea?” Dumbledore asked like everything was perfectly normal, and they both shook their heads. “Oh, I assure you, it’s a lovely blend that I highly-“

“Over the summer,” Draco interrupted hoarsely, and the old man blinked before moving away from his tea pot and settling back to listen to the unfolding story. “The dark lord moved into my family’s mansion and he gave me a task, and a… An ultimatum.” His eyes flick away and then quickly come back, staring right at Dumbledore like he was preparing for a fight. “I had to kill you before the school year was up, or else my parents and I would pay the price.”

Hermione jerked back in shock, hand flying up to her mouth because she hadn’t been expecting that. And all the while Dumbledore continued to sit serenely behind his desk, hands folded atop his paperwork as he looked almost even more unconcerned as he had been when they had first walked in.

“I see.” He hummed, and Draco flexed his jaw, looking away as if disgusted by the sight of the joviality of a man who had just been told his death had been planned by a threatened sixteen year old.

“I was the one who gave Katie the cursed necklace, hoping she’d get it to you. And I poisoned the mead Weasly drank. And I…” He swallowed, his throat so dry Hermione could hear it, “All year I’ve been working on a vanishing cabinet in the room of hidden things. It’s connected to one in Burgin and Burke’s and… I’ve been trying to fix it to allow people to pass through it to let… to let the Death Eaters pass through and enter Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore does manage to look surprised at that, blinking at the young man as Hermione threw herself out of her chair, standing up to pace and gnaw at her thumbnail in a bad habit she really should try to get rid of. Though, that thought didn’t seem important compared to the gut-punch Malfoy had just managed to deliver.

Death Eaters invading Hogwarts, going after Dumbledore, freely able to attack unsuspecting and unprotected students. She could imagine the carnage and the panic and…

Hogwarts was a safe place, and it could so very, very easily be invaded.

“Thank you for coming forward with this,” Dumbledore says after a long moment of thought, “I know it must have taken a lot of strength to do this. But I’m afraid, my boy, that I cannot help you.”

Hermione froze, for a moment her brain rejecting the words, thinking she must have heard wrong. But no. No she hadn’t.

She whirls back around, eyes wide and stomach rolling because this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Headmaster, you have to help him!” She shrieked, looking over to Draco to find the boy staring blankly past the old man, paler and looking even more sickly and terrified than he had before. “Think about what might happen to him! To his parents! To _Hogwarts!”_

“I assure you, Miss Granger, I know what I am doing.” He says smoothly, dangerously, like an oil spill in it’s slickness and how _dare he-_

Draco stands up and bolts, and with a curse Hermione darts off after him. And Draco might have been more athletic than she had been the in the past years, might be taller with longer legs and have fear on his side, but Hermione had experience running after her friends and she was a determined and speedy sprinter when she wanted to be.

She tackled him into the wall at the end of the stairs, panting and holding on tight as he struggled.

_“Stop_ you meddling little—He doesn’t want to help me! No one can help me!” Draco hoarsely cried, panic bubbling and boiling over in his voice. Scared and angry and now knowing that there was no way for him or his family to be saved. No way…

“ _Shut up_ , you prat!” Hermione snapped, tightening her hold on him as he struggled, “Dumbledore… Dumbledore is wrong and we’re going…” A thought hit her like a strike of lightning, hot and sudden and enlightening, and Hermione quickly pulled the struggling boy to his feet.

“I have another plan,” She hissed, giving him a shake, trying to get him to pay attention long enough to understand her, “And if this one doesn’t work I swear I’ll help you myself. Draco!” She snapped when she saw he wasn’t paying attention to her, ignoring the tracks of tears on his face because she knew that would be what he preferred, “Listen to me! We are going to get you through this! We are going to make sure you and your parents are fine, along with everyone else in the school! Draco,” She gentled her voice, giving him another shake, “Just one more time, please just trust me.”

He stared back at her, looking so far away it was frightening, before allowing one reluctant nod.

“If this doesn’t work, Granger, I swear-“ His voice wavered, falling away to nothingness.

“I know,” She soothed, stepping back and handing him the cloak, letting him pull it on himself this time, “I know.”

They didn’t run his time, and Hermione didn’t drag him. She still kept a hand on him, though, not wanting to lose him. They were silent the whole way, and the long trek allowed time for Hermione’s anger to come back doubled, though this time directed away from Draco.

_How dare he. How dare he just toss Draco back out like… like…_

Draco tensed when he realized what they were approaching, but he still went willingly enough along, remaining silent as Hermione knocked.

“Miss Granger?” Professor McGonagall questioned when she opened her office door, “What has happened?”

Hermione could tell she was asking about Harry, having expectations formed of years of Harry-centric trouble, and she shook her head with a small, cracking smile.

“It’s not like that, Professor.” She said quietly, nodding her thanks when the woman allowed her past, though Hermione shoved Draco though first to make sure he didn’t get shut out.

When Draco pulls off the cloak the woman reacts with no small amount of shock, her eyebrows shooting upward and her thin lips pressing together to almost disappear.

“Malfoy… Voldemort has threatened him,” Hermione started, feeling awkward standing just inside the entrance of the office, the woman too shocked to do the proper thing and invite them further in. “He’s been tasked with killing Dumbledore, or else he and his family will be punished. And Malfoy…

He came to me wanting help so I took him to Dumbledore, but the Headmaster sent us away saying he couldn’t do anything. And I know that’s a lie, Professor! Because what about the Order? And the Headmaster is so powerful surely he could do something but-“ Hermione froze when McGonagall held up a hand, words piling up in her throat like a horrendous traffic accident.

“Is this true, Mister Malfoy?” The woman questioned evenly, and Draco hesitantly nodded, haltingly telling his story once again.

McGonagall’s lips got impossibly thinner together over the course of Draco’s story, her displeasure evident as she pressed them tighter and tighter against eachother. And when Draco had finished she nodded sharply once, motioning for them to sit in her office as she walked over to the fireplace.

“I think,” She announced, her voice and eyes terrifyingly hard, “That the Headmaster and I must have a talk. You two stay here and,” A wave of her wand and a tray of biscuits and tea floated over to land delicately in front of them, “Have a biscuit while you wait.” Then, without waiting for their agreement, she threw down the floo powder and called out for the headmaster’s office, and the two students watched her go.

“I knew she would do something,” Hermione said quietly, reaching out for a biscuit just to give her hands something to do, “She would never leave a student alone to face a dangerous situation. Not if she could do anything about it.”

“But the great Dumbledore would.” Draco pointed out harshly, and Hermione couldn’t say anything to that because with what had just happened there was nothing to do but agree with him. So she just picked her biscuit to pieces, reducing it to crumbs as they waited.

They did not look at one another, and they did not speak again.


	7. A Plan is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall handles shit.

The next time they enter the Headmaster’s office an hour later is decidedly different from the first. This is mostly because they have a furious McGonagall at their back, glaring at Dumbledore like even that hour hadn’t been enough to get out every grievance she had.

“I can see that I… Mishandled the situation earlier.” Dumbledore said delicately, still seated behind his desk, and Hermione couldn’t help her tiny scoff. Because without the support of someone so close to him with the kind of intimidation McGonagall was capable of, she knew he wouldn’t be saying the things he was saying. Hell, despite whatever it was McGonagall had said to him, if the woman hadn’t’ been standing right there behind them she was sure he’d find some way to weasel out of everything.

She bristles at the look the man gives her, and angrily grinds her teeth for a moment to hold back the words that wanted to explode from her.

“I’m staying.” She declared, seeing what was on the tip of his tongue. There was nothing he could do that would get rid of her after the disaster of their first meeting.

Dumbledore sighed, but moved on.

“Well, the first thing I have to admit is that I’ve known all along that it was you making the attempts on my life, Mister Malfoy.” He said gently, to the shock of the room. “I have a spy in Voldemort’s ranks, you see, and I knew what he had told you. I have been working under the assumption that you would not be able to go through with it in the end, but that you would not accept any help.” His gaze lands on Hermione, and she fights off the urge to shrink back from its weight, “I can see now that this may not have necessarily been true.”

“You’ve known? All this time you’ve…”

“Yes.” Dumbledore nodded, cutting off Draco’s wavering question. “Though I didn’t know about your work on the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement.”

“If you knew why didn’t you do anything to stop me?” Draco asked hoarsely, and the old wizard gave him a smile that somehow felt more like a condescending pat on the head than an actual pat would have.

“I did not think you would go through with it and so far no one had been too hurt.”

“Ron was _poisoned!_ ” Hermione shrieked, fists forming at her side while her heart thundered in her ears, “And Katie-“

“They’re fine now,” Dumbledore dismisses, ignoring Hermione’s and McGonagall’s combined fury. “But, another reason is that…” Dumbledore sighs and holds out one of his hands, and everyone takes in the sight of the gnarled, blackened skin with no small amount of shock.

“I am already dying, you see,” He says gently, “And I already know that I will not survive the year. If you had managed to kill me it would ensure your family’s safety and if you didn’t,” He shrugged and pulled his hand back, “I already have other means secured.”

“Albus,” McGonagall breathed, stepping forward with her hand to her throat, “Why didn’t you-“

“It’s no matter, Minerva,” Dumbledore said kindly, “What is done is done. I did not wish to worry you. And anyways, now we must focus on what Mister Malfoy wishes to do.”

“Do?” Draco questioned weakly, and Dumbledore nodded in that sage way of his that was really starting to get on Hermione’s nerves.

“You do not have many options, I’m afraid,” The man murmurs, “You could attempt to leave the Voldemort’s service, and we would be more than happy to offer you protection if you chose to do this. But doing this would mean leaving your parents open to Voldemort’s retaliation.”

“No!” Draco hissed viciously, “They are the _entire_ reason-“

“Yes, I know.” Dumbledore soothed, “Which is why, as difficult as it might be, I believe that my next option would be best.” He waited a moment, as if to build up the room’s anticipation, “You continue doing as you have been and return to working as a Death Eater, but you do so as a spy for those working against Voldemort.”

“This would be dangerous,” He urges the boy to understand, leaning over his desk as if to press the importance of this to the shell shocked boy, “If you are caught, the things that could happen to you would be terrible and numerous. But it would ensure the safety of you and your family after the war, which – and trust me on this my boy – we _will_ win, as we have won every battle against Voldemort. And you wouldn’t have to do any of this alone.” He said gently, and Draco’s eyes instantly darted over to Hermione.

The room was heavy with the weight of the decision, Draco’s eyes flitting over every fixture in the room so as to not land on any of the people in it with him. McGonagall, who looked on with concern, though her anger still simmered in the background. Dumbledore, who continued to emit an aura of caring that neither teen believed. And Hermione…

Hermione didn’t know how she felt.

“Okay.” Draco finally croaked, and McGonagall reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He immediately jumped at the comfort and jerked away from it, but the woman didn’t seem bothered by the truthfully expected reaction.

“Good. And Miss Granger, would you be willing to act as his direct handler? I assume you’ve been somehow meeting before this, so you’ll only have to continue doing what you have been doing and meet with Professor McGonagall after to give her any information you may get.” The old man said almost happily, a twinkle in his eye that Hermione didn’t quite like.

And she hadn’t been expecting to be included in the whole spy plan, truthfully, but what could she say?

“Of course.” She nodded, putting her hands behind her back so that she could squeeze her fingers tightly together out of everyone’s sight.

“What do I do about the cabinet? Crabbe and Goyle have been acting as my lookouts so they know I’m doing something, so their parents know. And my mother knows the specifics along with the owner of Burgin and Burke’s. If I don’t give the Dark Lord anything he’ll-“

“You’ll continue doing as you have been.” Dumbledore interrupted, which had McGonagall stepping forward.

“Albus, the safety of the students-“

“I assure you, Minerva, now that we know what will be happening we will ensure that no students are harmed. But in order to protect Mister Malfoy and his family we need to ensure that he is allowed some victories over us.”

McGonagall’s jaw clenched and she looked like she was on the edge of a fight, but she still nodded. “We will begin planning _immediately_.” She warned, and Dumbledore nodded easily.

“Of course. But tomorrow, because it is far too late for such things tonight. It’s off to bed for you two, and Miss Granger,” The girl shot to attention, “You cannot tell Harry or Ron anything about this. It remains between the four of us.”

Her gut reaction was to argue because this sort of thing felt like something she’d need her friends’ support on. Going at this alone, doing all of this secretive stuff…

But she had to. The more people who knew, the more dangerous it was.

“Yes, Sir.” She agreed seriously, which seemed to surprise Draco and McGonagall.

“Off you go, then. I suppose we’ll be seeing more of each other than usual.” He said jovially, and the two teens tersely nodded before hurrying away.

Draco pulled on the cloak without prompting and they went down to their usual bathroom together, neither of them looking at one another as he handed it back. Hermione thought about saying something – anything – but words felt so incredibly inadequate to fill the chasm between them and she didn’t… She didn’t know what she would even want to say, anyways.

So she said nothing, slipping on the cloak and walking away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What did you need my cloak for last night?” Harry hissed at the breakfast table the next morning, and Hermione didn’t even bother looking up from the star chart she was finishing up.

“I can’t tell you.” She whispered, absentmindedly taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, idly wishing for her mother’s coffee in the way she always did when things were starting to get unpleasantly stressful.

“ _Hermione_ , come on,” He urged, and Hermione rolled her eyes and used her ultimate weapon.

“Dumbledore said I couldn’t,” And that got him quiet rather quickly, his reverence for the man coming before anything else.

Hermione fought the urge to look for Draco across the dining hall and won, knowing that Harry looked enough that no one would question it, but not willing to risk anything now that they were doing what they were doing.

Her day proceeded in a perfectly normal way. She went to classes and talked with her friends at meals and during breaks, laughing and pretending nothing had changed from the day before. That everything was just like it had been during the time before Draco Malfoy had been anything but an annoying and cruel nuisance.

She worried over Ron, which he eagerly lapped up, and avoided a furious Lavender and Pavarti. She played cards with Luna and Ginny, trying not to argue with Luna too much over the existence of something called a bizzlebur, which Luna insisted could tell when a person was thinking of backstabbing and would collect at their heels to grin. Ginny just laughed, and trumped them easily as Hermione bickered and fumed and Luna continued to remain serene in her convictions. She followed Harry and Ginny out to the Quidditch pitch to study and cheer them on as they practiced with the rest of the team.

She did as she had always done, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was giving it away somehow. If she was trying too hard or not trying hard enough. If she was smiling too strangely, or if her laugh was too high pitched.

She tried her best, though, and could only hope that it worked.

The next time she went to meet Draco was only a few days after the last, and she was surprised to find him standing up and pacing, arms behind his back and his face drawn tight.

“If he catches me, it’ll be worse than if I’d failed.” He snaps out like an accusation, turning sharply on his heel to start pacing in the other direction. “Even if I don’t slip up he can get into my mind to find out what he wants. I’ve seen it happen.”

“There are ways to keep him out.”

“Oh really?” He hissed, “I’ve seen him crack people. People who thought they’d never crack.”

“Harry was being trained last year in occlumency. That may be a good idea.”

“Ah, yes, _thank you_ Granger, let me just go about finding someone to train me in protecting my mind from the Dark Lord, I’m sure no one will be suspicious.” He bit out, and Hermione flushed, back snapping straight as her anger, having laid dormant just near the surface since the night she’d learned the truth, burst forth.

“Oh, will you just get your head out of your arse?” She snapped, hands going to her hips in the same way her father’s always did when the man started to get angry, “What is happening to you is terrible, but if you don’t stop being such a prat I’m going to make it ten times worse because I am going to _hex you_.” She shrieked, hissing harshly.

He scoffed, “Am I inconveniencing you, Granger?” He spit out angrily, “Well, I suppose I should just stop this whole thing, shouldn’t I? If perfect little swot Hermione Granger is upset because of the life or death situation I have found myself in is inconveniencing her _so_ much, there is just no way I can continue.”

“Oh, shut up.” Hermione huffed, fighting the urge to stomp her foot. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh no, no Granger, I know exactly what you meant.”

“No, because all I want is for you to stop acting like-“

“What? Like my life and the lives of my family are on the line? Like the most vicious, bloodthirsty tyrant alive now has a reason to torture me endlessly, as if he had even needed one? Like I just trusted _everything_ to a man who obviously has only his own interests in mind?” He hissed out, eyes flaring and teeth bared, a vicious sort of angry desperation pouring off of him in waves.

And, well, putting it like that wasn’t exactly painting her in the _best_ light.

“While that is _true_ ,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms and trying to figure out how to save face, “You need to realize that you aren’t the only one, and that we are going to do our best to protect you from that happening.”

“Oh, if you’re trying your _best_ I’m sure nothing will happen.” He snipped, and Hermione rolled her eyes so violently it almost hurt.

“You’re impossible.” She muttered, earning yet another glare.

If possible the silence they fell into was even more tense than it had been when they’d first started whatever this had turned into. The air around them felt like it would crack and crumble, like whatever was between them had become so incredible fragile that it shatter at the next wrong word.

Finally, after far too long of them both mulishly staring the other way, Hermione – who had been going over the whole argument in her head to assure herself that she was blameless in this debacle – had to concede that maybe she wasn’t completely in the right.

“I may,” She sighed, pursing her lips to momentarily hold the words back, “Be in the wrong. I’m… Sorry.” She managed, ignoring the taste the words left in her mouth.

“Good.” Draco sniffed, and Hermione growled at him, wondering how he could manage to be the most insufferable person alive so _easily_. It was truly a feat.

“Oh, piss off.” She bit out, earning a pissy look in return.

She watched as he flexed his jaw, obviously considering whether or not he wanted to tell her something, and she was genuinely a bit surprised when he started talking.

“My Aunt… She taught me a bit over the summer to keep my _mission_ secret.” He managed to grit out, not looking the least bit happy about it. And remembering Bellatrix Lestrange and how she was at the fight at the department of mysteries last year…

She could see how that wouldn’t have been a happy experience.

“Enough to protect yourself from…?”

He shook his head once, sharply, “No. We never got to finish and… And I don’t think I can quite manage it against the Dark Lord.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to make your mind empty, but that’s a dead giveaway that you’re occluding. And as soon as he would see that it would only be a matter of how long it would take for him to torture me in order to get everything he wanted and more, and then he would take turns torturing my parents before killing us.” Draco said hoarsely, obviously having thought this through. “Dumbledore wouldn’t torture a student, so she didn’t bother teaching me how to do better.”

Hermione swallowed thickly and nodded, and for some reason after that things were just a little bit easier. Maybe because they were no longer doing this strange balancing act of uncertainty – him having nowhere to go, her worried of what would happen with him if she left. They knew where they stood now with one another, and it allowed them to breathe just a little bit easier around one another.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco learn a bit more about each other in an unconventional way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I keep on forgetting what day of the week it is, but I'm going to try my best to get back into the swing of things. At momst I'll be a day or two late.

“What are you even _looking for_?” Ron groaned, for some reason following her around the library. She was happy he was up and about and back to his old, non-poisoned self, but she didn’t quite understand why he’d latched on to her so much in the past few days.

She wasn’t going to lie and say she didn’t like it though.

“Books on occlumency and legimancy.”

“Why? Is there a test on something I should know about?” He asks, a bit of urgency entering his voice by the end, following her even closer and nearly tripping her a time or two with how close he was.

“ _No_ , Ronald.” She sighed, another book joining the pile she had collected, “I just wanted to know some more about it, and since we don’t have a class available here or a teacher specializing in it – other than Snape – I need to investigate myself. But did you know that they offer classes for those who show an aptitude in Beauxbatons?” And so she stared on a long, winding rant about how Hogwarts _had_ had a class back when Salazar Slytherin had been alive and how he had taught it himself, but that the other three founders had gotten rid of it after he had left.

She could tell the moment he mentally checked out of the conversation, and was able to breathe a little bit easier because of it. As always, all she had to do was throw too much information at her friends in the most boring way possible for them to move on and never question what she was doing.

Was it bad that she knew how to manipulate them, and could do it so effortlessly?

Ron helped her bring the books back to the Gryffindor tower, the two of them more at ease with one another than they had been in months. He mentioned that Harry had got a free shipment of merchandise from Fred and George’s shop, and that the twins had – yet again – refused to give any to Ron. Harry was all too willing to share, but Ron insisted it was the principle of the matter.

“I’m their brother! They can’t just hand out free stuff to someone who is _not_ related to them and then charge me!” He protested, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Really, they only do it because Harry gave them the money to start their shop. He’s an investor, and they’re just showing him that they’re making good on that investment.” Hermione rolled her eyes, huffing at his glare.

“No, it’s just because they like Harry better.” He snorted, and she couldn’t help but notice the brief side eye he gave her as he told her: “Everyone likes Harry better.”

“That’s not true,” Hermione sighed, knowing _exactly_ what she was walking into but unable to stop herself from soothing him, and Ron quickly pounced on that opening.

“Then who do you like more? Me or Harry?”

Oh dear. “I like you both equally.” Hermione said brightly, hurrying down the hall to the portrait before Ron could press her, thankful that they had gotten so close before that line of questioning had started.

When they entered they found Lavender sitting in the common room, impatiently tapping her foot and watching the portrait opening with anxious eyes that quickly turned furious when she caught Ron and Hermione together. Hermione quickly went up to her dorm to deposit the books, all too eager to leave the scene before Ron and Lavender could get into it with one another.

She sat the stack of books alongside her other stacks on the floor next to her bed, hiding her new interest right in plain sight. She briefly thought about just staying in the room so that she could avoid the argument the couple was almost definitely having, but she didn’t want to sequester herself in her room any more. She belonged downstairs just like everyone else.

So she found herself hesitating at the top of the stairs, listening to see if Ron and Lavender were having a fight down there before she went down, because she knew it wouldn’t go well if she walked in right in the middle of something. She’d wait for a lull, or something, and then go down there.

Being so cautious about everything was _exhausting_.

“I see that we had the same idea,” Ginny hissed behind her, making Hermione jump. “Do you think it’s safe yet?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione whispered back, “I don’t hear any yelling. They might be taking a break.”

“I say we chance it.” Ginny quietly declares, and they carefully creep down the rest of the stairs together. Looking around, hidden by a wall, the two couldn’t spot the troublesome and loud couple, but it almost felt like the pair would leap out from their hiding places as soon as they revealed themselves, screaming at one another and trying to drag the innocent into their arguments.

Neville spots them, and cracks a smile at the pair. “They’re gone. Went somewhere more private to yell at each other.”

“Alright, then.” Ginny declared, easily stepping out into the common room and going over to Neville, flopping down onto the seat beside him. Hermione followed.

“They just need to break up before their voices give out, or our ears do.” Ginny huffed, pulling out a Quidditch magazine from her back pocket and flipping through it.

“They have to be staying together for _some_ reason.” Neville weakly pointed out, and Ginny scoffed.

“They got together because they both wanted a mouth to snog, and now they’re discovering that those mouths are connected to annoying personalities. And they’re both just too bloody stupid to just give up already.”

“No,” Hermione protested quietly, remembering all of those times she’d overheard Lavender talking about Ron, “Lavender genuinely likes Ron.”

“Well,” Ginny muttered after a considering moment, “There’s her problem right there. That’s something only an idiot would do.”

“Yeah.” Hermione sighed, ignoring Neville’s panicked look as she pulled out some homework – it could have been anything, she wasn’t really paying any attention, she just needed something to do, “A real idiot.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I have a plan.” Hermione declared as soon as she spotted Draco waiting for her, “And it is a good one.”

“A bold statement.” Draco noted dryly, “One I do not believe, according to your history.”

“What history?” She asked, derailing from her intended train of thought. Draco scoffed.

“The weasel and Potter, for one.”

“Oh, piss off.” Hermione snapped, and upended their entire usual arrangement by going over and sitting next to the boy. He jerks back, as if this was the last thing he had ever expected from her, and glares in a way she knows means he’s shocked, not angry.

She was learning the differences in his glares, which was weird. Maybe that meant something.

She decides to just not think about it.

“So, I’ve checked out every book on occlumency and legimancy from the library that I could, and we’re going to go through them and learn how to do it as well as we can without a proper instructor.”

He stares as her a moment before letting out a derisive laugh. “ _This_ is your plan? Reading some _books?_ ”

Hermione could feel her face flushing, and tried to cover it up with a glare and by shoving a book into his chest.

“ _Yes_.”

“Why are you learning it to? It’s not like you have anything to hide.” He said like he knew everything, like he was so sure. Hermione resisted the urge to punch him.

“I have to hide you, you insufferable toad.” She snapped, and he looked so genuinely shocked for a moment that she softened a little.

“If anyone for some reason tried to search my mind for any of Harry’s secrets, or the Order’s, or even just to see who was important to me so that they could torture me more efficiently… They could stumble onto what we’re doing _so_ easily, and it would instantly put you and your family in danger.” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, and for some reason she couldn’t even _look_ at him, so she happily pushed onward.

“So read, Malfoy.”

He complied.

And so their days went, trying to understand every concept behind the magic, the basics to the casting and how best to protect yourself.

_Understand your emotions and understand yourself_ , one book urged, _and then separate yourself from that. Do not shut down, do not seal everything away. But instead, distance yourself from whoever you are and create a new person. One who does not know what you must hide._

“I just don’t get it,” Hermione huffed, pushing some stubborn curls behind her ear. “How can you just… Create another you in your head?”

“Don’t be thick, Granger.” Draco muttered, not looking up from his own book, “It’s something you’ve already been doing.”

“I think I’d realize if I just _created_ another version of myself, thank you very much.”

“No, apparently you don’t. After all, are you the same to your friends as you are to me? Are you the same person in the… Muggle world as you are here? To your teachers you’re the perfect little student, but in real life you’re running off with your friends in search for danger, or doing it all on your own.” He gestured to himself with a flick of his fingers as evidence, and Hermione hissed and glared down at her book.

He had a point, though.

She thought that over, how she could be so many different Hermiones to so many different people, and every night she tried to construct a new Hermione in her mind.

A Hermione that loved as she did, that believed in magical creature rights as she did, that fought for her friends and family as she did. A Hermione that only knew Draco Malfoy as a nuisance, who had never shared more than a few scathing lines and a punch to the face with him.

“We should practice on each other.” She declared one day, and Draco gave her such a dry look she could swear she was parched.

“Of course, Granger, I happily welcome you into my mind, just like I’m sure you welcome me into yours. So, of course, you’re more than willing to go first, aren’t you?” He asked like a snake slithering through the grass, his eyes sparking with the beginnings of anger.

Her spine stiffened and her chin went up, and even though a thread of uneasiness twanged in her stomach she couldn’t stop herself from rising to the challenge he had thrown at her feet.

“Of course.” She spit out, reveling in his shock for the moment she was allowed. Then the uneasy fear came up to overwhelm everting else.

_Draco. In her head. Access to everything she had ever thought, had ever felt._

_No, it’ll be fine. They were now… Not friends, but allies. And everything would be fine._

_Draco Malfoy. In her head…_

They stood apart from one another, staring at each other like a dare. Like a promise. Like a gauntlet that had been thrown down between them that neither truly felt comfortable with taking up.

“ _Legilimens_.” Draco incanted seriously with a wave of his wand, copying the exact way the books had instructed and then…

_“My name is Hermione Granger.” She declared to the two boys in front of her, one a little dirty with the reddest hair she had ever seen, the other in ill-fitting clothes and glasses that were a bit crooked on his face…_

_“Mum!” She screeched, giggling as her father reached to grab her, “Mum save me!”_

_“Oh dear,” Her mother laughed from the door, looking down at them fondly, “It looks like a monster is after my daughter.”_

_“A terrible monster!” Her father growled, grabbing her around the middle and swooping her up so that her stomach dipped and her laughter grew in pitch…_

_Pieces of paper cut in the shapes of fairies and butterflies danced on the air, fluttering and twirling around the woman and child who stood in the middle of it all._

_“Lord,” Her mother breathed, hand to her chest, looking around the living room with wide eyes. “Hermione…”_

_“I made them.” A nine year old Hermione whispered, filed with awe as a paper fairy landed on her upturned palm, “Mum, I made them come to life.”_

_“…Alright.” The woman said faintly, jerking back a step when a butterfly tried to land on her shoulder. She then looked a bit closer._

_“Hermione, are these made from my mail statements?” And…_

_Viktor and her walking through the stacks of the library, talking about some of their favorite things of their extremely different homes – apparently, there were few similarities in Wizarding Bulgaria and Muggle England._

_“No, I promise, you just…” Hermione couldn’t continue, too caught up in laughing at the look on Viktor’s face. The older boy taking her hand caused her to stop, and looking up into his face her breath hitched at the way he was looking at her._

_Her stomach clenched, her heart jumped, and she suddenly realized that her lips were chapped and that her mouth was dry._

_“Can I…?” He whispered, leaning in a bit._

_“Yes.” Hermione whispered back, closing her eyes as Viktor continued leaning down until their lips met gently._

_It was everything she had ever imagined, gentle and soft, deep in the heart of the library, surrounded by books. They separated and one of his hands came up, the back of his fingers stroking down her cheek so sweetly…_

_“Shit.” Hermione cursed, the car now firmly off the road despite her best efforts._

_“Language, love.” Her mother scolded, though she sounded extremely unconcerned. “Richard, fix the car.”_

_“Lizzy, let her do it. She’s doing fine.” Her father protested, despite the fact that he had been fretting the entire time in the back seat._

_“Oh, we’ll never make it to Garry’s on time at this rate.” Her mother bemoaned, though she didn’t suggest Hermione give up her seat at the driver again. She just relaxed back in the passenger seat and patiently waited as her daughter figured out how to get out of the ditch she’d accidentally driven herself into._

_“If you can’t go backwards,” Her father pointed out from the back seat when Hermione started getting a bit too aggravated, “Remember that you can always go forward.”_

_“Oh, stop. You’re a terrible fortune cookie, you know.” Her mother snorted, but even so once Hermione stated driving forward instead they found themselves back on the road in no time._

_“There’s a good girl.” Her mother praised, carefully tucking a piece of hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear._

_“See there, Lizzy? I told you…”_

Hermione stumbled back into the wall, hitting her head on the tiled wall so hard it had her seeing stars.

For a moment the only sounds were of their heavy breathing as they stared at one another like they’d never really seen the other before, and the slow and steady drip of a leaky faucet.

“I… I didn’t expect it to be like that.” Hermione whispered, and Draco slowly nodded.

“You’re turn.” He eventually said, and she slowly nodded and cast the spell…

Walls, thick and foreboding everywhere. Everywhere she turned she was blocked and so she chose one at random and _pushed_.

It held, no matter what she did to it, unconquerable. She huffed and frowned and dug at it, but it didn’t change.

His aunt had definitely done worse than whatever she was doing, she realized with a sudden shock of sympathy. And so she just had to go about it a different way.

“Draco,” She said softly, “Tell me about your mother again.” His shock made his walls quiver, “You said she draws. What does her art look like?”

_A charcoal of the gardens as they’d been twenty years ago, lovingly done and framed carefully, placed just behind a stiff family picture on a large mahogany desk…_

Just a flash, and then gone as his shields slammed suddenly back into place.

“You never told me about your father.” She prodded, but if anything his shields strengthened at that, and he forcefully shoved her out.

He looked thrown, obviously not having expected her to affect him like that, and she allowed him a moment to catch his breath before she stepped forward.

“Again.” She demanded, and he considered her for a moment before nodding and raising his wand again.

_“Legilimens.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm like 78% sure that seeing people's memories using legimancy was different in the books, but I feel like the way I've written it has made it a bit easier for the characters to understand each other. There's also going to be a lot more of it, so there's something to look forward to if you like it.


	9. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter about friendship

Ron and Lavender’s break up is almost anticlimactic compared to how the entirety of their relationship had gone. One day they were screaming at each other as usual and the next they weren’t, and it took a couple of days for Ron to even mention that they had called it quits.

Hermione tried her best to kill the happy little flutter that caused in her stomach, but it was hard.

Ginny and Dean broke up as well and she saw a flash of something akin to happiness in Harry’s eyes at that and… How out of it had she been that she hadn’t noticed _that_ developing?

She’s thinking about all of the things that must have passed her by as she goes down to the first floor bathroom, more than a little sad at how she must have been failing her friends since all of this had started.

But then, compared to the safety of everyone involved, there was really nothing she could do.

“Granger, I think I’ve gotten it this time.” Draco declares when she enters, a book open on his lap and Myrtle floating in the air beside him.

“Oh?” She questioned, smiling at Myrtle even though the ghost floated away with a high pitched huff as she always did whenever Hermione was around.

“Yes, so get to it.” He demanded, closing the book with a crisp snap and standing almost eagerly, and she rolled her eyes but none the less pulled out her wand.

“ _Legili-“_

“Potter is coming!” Myrtle screeched as she quickly came through the wall. “He’s coming right here!”

Draco was furious and guarded in an instant, wand in hand, and for a moment all Hermione could feel was panic. Everything they’d worked on, all of their secrecy and lying… Harry was coming and he’d find them out and if there was _one_ thing Hermione was certain of it was Harry’s hatred of Draco Malfoy.

But then she told herself to suck it up, straightened her back, and made herself step forward.

“Put your wand away.” She hissed, going around to the door and opening just as Harry came to stand in front of it.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, blinking in surprise, hoping that she wasn't overacting, “What are you doing down here?”

“Hermione?” He blurted, the angry suspicion in his eyes going away for a moment, “What are you-“

“I heard Myrtle pitching a fit and I came to see what was going on.” She said innocently. Harry blinked before his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I saw Malfoy,” He said lowly, pulling the Marauder’s map out of his pocket, and there was another moment of heart stopping terror before Hermione’s brain got started again.

“He heard the same thing I did. Really Harry, this obsession of yours is getting ridiculous.” Hermione huffed, and the boy looked embarrassed for all of a second before he was determined all over again.

“You weren’t around when this happened, but I’ve had Kreacher and Dobby following him around when they could and apparently he’s been going to the room of requirement with Crabbe and Goyle as his lookouts. I haven’t been able to get in there to see what he’s been doing, but Hermione, can’t you see that this is actually suspicious? He’s _really_ up to something!” He exclaimed, and for a moment Hermione battled with herself because he was right but…

“Harry.” She hissed angrily, stepping into his space, “This is getting out of hand.”

“Bu-“

“ _No.”_ She snapped, putting a hand on his chest and slowly pushing him backwards, “This whole year you have been focused on Malfoy above anything else. More than you have with any of the tasks Dumbledore gave you, more than you have with being the captain of the Quidditch team. More than you have even focused on _Voldemort_.” He opened his mouth to protest and she angrily shook her head.

“You have looked for any excuse for your suspicions, and now you’ve forced poor Dobby and Kreacher to do your bidding instead of anything they might want to do. You have brought innocent creatures into this, Harry! To stalk a sixteen year old boy around our school!”

“It isn’t like that-“

“Yes it is! I have no idea why you are so obsessed with him instead of any of the real-life deadly threats you are constantly faced with! Draco Malfoy is _nothing_ compared to those so you need to just _stop_!” She cried out, full on shoving the shocked boy this time.

They stood there facing each other, Hermione panting and close to tears because even though she meant what she was saying she was also lying and Harry was her best friend and…

“Give me the map, Harry.” Hermione said quietly, and Harry jerked back.

“What? No! Hermione-“

“Harry Potter, you are my best friend and you mean more to me than anyone else and… I know you, Harry.” She admits, her voice breaking a bit. “And you are not going to leave this alone. So give me the map – I swear I won’t use it – and don’t you dare force those innocent house elves to do what you want again. And if you’re really so worried about Malfoy talk to Dumbledore about it. You may not believe me, but if anyone can set you straight it’ll be him.” He’d toss the boy off the scent. He’d know how to handle Harry.

“… He won’t believe me.” Harry admitted, and Hermione shook her head and held out her hand.

“What does that tell you?” She asked wearily, and he wouldn’t look at her as he slowly sat the map in her hand and then turned to walk away.

Hermione didn’t even realize she was just standing out in the hall crying until the door creaked open behind her and a hand came out to gently pull her in, steering her over to their usual spot and sitting down with her.

“My father bought me my first broom, but it was mostly my mother who taught me to fly.” Draco admitted, like Hermione’s tears were forcing him to tell the story, staring intently at the far wall. “She’d sit behind me on the broom and tell me what to do. She never did any tricks or anything like that because she wasn’t particularly skilled. She’s never played Quidditch, and flying is probably her least favorite mode of transportation, but she still got on the broom with me every day because I asked her too. And then after we’d go and eat cakes in the atrium, and she’d show me how to play chess.”

Hermione sniffled, took a deep breath, and then admitted something she had barely even allowed herself to think, “They’ll go after my parents, because of who I am to Harry. If they can’t get to me they’ll go right to them.”

“I’ll try-“ Draco started, but Hermione shook her head so hard some of her hair slapped him in the face.

“The only way they’ll be safe… The only way,” She hiccupped, “Would be if I wasn’t their daughter.”

“Granger-“

“If Lockheart can manage to obliviate dozens of people despite his ineptitude, I’m sure I can manage only the two.” She managed, her voice barely breaking before she broke down sobbing.

She latched on as Draco awkwardly pulled her to him, his arm around her shoulder, and she cried so hard that she wouldn’t have a need to do it later. Because her friends would need her to be the strong one, and what were two people compared to the thousands that could die from Voldemort?

But for now, with Draco Malfoy awkwardly petting her head like he’d never had to comfort a person before, she could mourn.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She went up to the Gryffindor common room an hour later feeling absolutely exhausted but looking perfectly fine since Draco had taught her a beautifying spell that could hide baggy and bloodshot eyes quite well. Almost as soon as she came in through the portrait she heard a heavy and rapid thudding and a curse, and then suddenly there was Crookshanks, winding around her legs and meowing up at her demandingly.

“Hello Lovely,” She laughed hoarsely, crouching down to pick the cat up, lifting her chin as the cat nuzzled his face into her throat. She took a breath and walked forward, taking comfort in the solid weight of her pet in her arms.

Harry wouldn’t meet her eyes and he had obviously told their friends at least a bit about what had happened because while they looked at her, they all almost immediately looked away. It was awkward and terrible and a bit like the beginning of first year and… She just couldn’t be bothered with dealing with that at the moment. So Hermione kept her head held high and walked straight past them and up the stairs.

She decided to go over the occlumency books again to try and strengthen her walls and make sure she was using her memories correctly. But before she could do that she heard a noise and realized she wasn’t alone, as she had thought she was when she’d first walked in. And then she realized _who_ was in the dorm with her, who was the only person who had her bed curtains closed, and hesitated a moment before going over and knocking on the bed frame.

“Lavender? I want to talk, please.” Hermione requested quietly, tightening her hold on Crookshanks as she wondered if she was doing the right thing. After all, wouldn’t it be better to just leave it alone?

It took a while for the curtains to pull open, several long, heavy seconds that seemed to physically hurt, but eventually they did.

“What do you want?” Lavender asked, her voice cracking in a way that hinted at recent tears, and Hermione remembered what Pavarti and Lavender had talked about so long ago,

_You just look at her and you clearly see how jealous she is and you just have to think, ‘get over it, you lost’._

And now Lavender was looking at Hermione like _she_ was the one that had won.

“I’m sorry about your break up with Ron.” She says quietly. Gently. “I know you really liked him.”

“Yeah,” Lavender laughed meanly, “But he liked you better, so none of it matters. I guess I should have known better.” She muttered bitterly, not looking at Hermione and glaring off into the distance. Hermione ached a bit at the sight of her.

“No,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head, “No, that’s not it.”

“Then _what?_ I’m not stupid, you know, even though you probably think I am because I’m not as smart as you. He talked about that a lot. How smart you were. How _great_ you were. You were the person he talked about, you were the person he-“

“We aren’t together. He didn’t break up with you to get together with me.” Hermione urged, needing her to know that. Lavender shook her head, her blonde curls shaking limply.

“Just… Please go away.” She whispered, rolling over so her back faced Hermione, flicking her wand dejectedly to close the bed-curtains.

Hermione stood there for another beat before sighing and going over to her bed. She got in, pulled the covers up, closed the curtains, buried her face in Crookshanks’ fur, and laid there the rest of the night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re hanging out today.” Ginny declared, a smiling Luna standing just behind her. Hermione blinked up at the girls, the yolk of her egg dripping off of her paused fork.

“Um… We are?” She questioned, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“ _Yes_ , so come on.” She huffed, and Hermione considered her breakfast for a moment before pushing herself away from it and following the girls out the dining hall and then out of the castle and onto the lawn.

“So… What’s this about?” Hermione asked as they came up to the shore of the lake. Ginny shrugged and stretched her arms over her head, making a sound of satisfaction when her back popped.

“Can’t we just spend time with each other?” She questioned innocently, turning her head to face her older friend. “No? Well, alright. I guess we’ll just have to talk then… What the hell is going on with you?” Ginny asked sharply, drawing Hermione up short.

“W-What?”

“You disappear _all_ the time, something happened between you and Harry, you’re withdrawn from us and… I don’t know… You’re hair is flatter!” Ginny exclaimed. Hermione stared at her with no small amount of shock, and Luna ignored them to walk over to the water’s edge to play for a bit and try to talk to the giant squid.

“I’ve needed to have some… time to myself. Everything has just been a lot recently,” Hermione said truthfully, even though that wasn’t _really_ what her disappearances had been for. “Harry… Harry just kept on and on and _on_ about Draco being a Death Eater, following him around, making _house elves_ follow him around, stalking him with the map and I… I just… He’s so frustrating!” Hermione exploded, throwing her hands up in the air, “Focusing on this when there is so much more going on in our lives. ‘ _Draco is a Death Eater,’_ Well Harry, he is also a teenage prat. There are real adult _murdering_ Death Eaters out there murdering people! Maybe, just maybe, we should have priorities!” She shouts, and Ginny nods in support.

“True. Very True.” She agreed.

“And I’m sorry I’ve withdrawn from you, I really am.” She tells the red head sincerely, “I’m not trying to, I don’t want to. And…” A breath, “I don’t know what my hair is doing. Sorry.”

Ginny’s face cracked into a smile and she rolled her eyes fondly.

“Oh, alright. I forgive you.” The girl laughed, walking over to swing a loving arm around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Hermione huffed, and together they walked over to Luna. The girl smiled at the duo, and kicked the water so that an arc of it flew up into the air.

“Is everything alright, now?” She asked, as though she couldn’t already tell. Hermione nodded. “That’s good."

“As if we'd let anything come between us.” Ginny laughed beautifully, throwing her free arm over her shoulders so that they could stand and walk as one unit. Hermione looked over and watched the other two girls talk for a moment and was hit by a rush of love for the pair.

Ginny's wild red hair was whipping around her face like a firestorm on the wind, the freckles on her face standing out in sharp contrast to her pale skin, highlighted by the almost too bright light of the sun. She was wearing an old sweater that must have been George's - because of the G - that hung too big on her athletic frame.She had a bruise on one of her exposed forearms from when she had been dared by a seventh year to attempt to jump over one of the chairs in the common room without a running start. She hadn't landed well, but she'd cleared the chair and had won twenty silver sickles for her troubles. She had a sort of violent energy kindled inside of her that burned brighter than anything Hermione had ever seen, just begging to be let out. It almost felt as if they were waiting for something to earn her ire, and then for the quick snap of her fist, but thank Merlin for outlets like Quidditch. They wouldn't have survived without it.

And Luna right beside her, tucked underneath her best friend's long arm, a sweet, dreamy smile curling her lips. The sun made her skin shine like ivory and her hair almost glow, and this along with her delicate features and large eyes would almost have you believing she was something out of a fairy tale. The fact that she had a mangled fork holding together her bun and that her sweater featured an angry looking goblin subtracted from this, but Hermione figured Luna would probably prefer not being stuck in a fairy tale. She'd probably find it all very boring. She was infuriating and more often than not Hermione questioned the girl's sanity, but every now and then she'd look at the girl's eyes and be almost blown away by how much the girl seemed to see.

Suddenly, watching them talk about something or another, Hermione was filled with an almost overwhelming fondness for the two girls, and leaned her head on Ginny's shoulder with a content smile.

They wandered for a couple of hours, walking along the water’s edge and talking about inconsequential things, sitting down beneath a tree for a while to watch the other students hurrying about, talking about the interesting ones before getting up and walking again. Wash, rinse, repeat, and feel as happy as you had in what felt like the entire year. Out here, with these two, there was no Voldemort or Ron or Draco or Harry. There was only the three of them and nothing of consequence and it was glorious.

Eventually it was time for Ginny to run off to Quidditch practice for the final match the next day, leaving just Hermione and Luna.

“Do you still talk with Blaise Zambini?” Hermione questioned, turning a random stone she had picked up over in her hands while Luna stared out over the lake. “Ginny told me about him.”

“Yes.” Luna hummed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as it got caught on a harsh gust of wind. “We talk about a lot of things. He has a lot to deal with, and no one else will really listen to you when they’ve already made assumptions. They assume him cruel and stuck up, so he has no one to turn to.”

“If he’s not those things, what is he?”

“He is a bit cruel and very stuck up. I wasn’t saying that the assumptions about him were _wrong_.” Luna said simply, causing Hermione to laugh. “But he’s also lonely, and he listens to me. It’s nice.” Luna turned her eyes onto Hermione, and she was struck by just how much they seemed to know as they held her in place.

“Why?” Luna questioned, and Hermione shrugged, uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Luna said as if Hermione didn’t know it was an option, “But if you do, know that I won’t tell anyone. And even if I did, most people don’t listen to me anyways.”

Hermione laughed again, a bit weaker, and looked down at her hands.

“I’ve been talking with someone too. That’s all.” She whispered, and Luna considered her for all of a minute before shrugging and moving on.

“Alright.” She said, flopping back onto her back to be able to better look up at the sky. “Would you like to look at the clouds with me? I was wondering what message the cloud formers had left us today.”

“Yeah, I’d love to.” Hermione smiled, truly at ease for the first time in a long time, flopping back beside her. “What’s a cloud former?”

“Oh, they look just like a snake, but with wings and a single long feather coming out of their heads. They live up in the sky, and they make all the shapes of the clouds to convey messages to one another. If you’re smart enough, and you know enough about them, you can decode the messages.”

“Ah.” Hermione hummed, looking up at the sky and the sluggish clouds for a moment before mentally shrugging. “Well, what do they say today?”

Luna turned her head just long enough to grin at her before looking up once again, spinning the tale the clouds told with the ease of someone who believed every word they were saying. Hermione allowed herself to relax and just listen.


	10. An Ordinary Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny get together, and things continue on.

“And Potter has the snitch! Gryffindor wins 520 to 170, and they’ve got the house cup!” Smith exclaimed, and the Gryffindor crowd rose to their feet screaming, joined by some Hufflepuffs and absolutely no Slytherins or Ravenclaws.

Hermione cheered, jumping in place as she clapped and smiling widely as the team landed on the pitch to accept the cup. Once Harry had all too eagerly taken it from Madam Hooch he lifted it over his head to the delight of the crowd, who cheered even harder and louder at the sight he made.

Luna laughed beside her, dressed in clashing Gryffindor and Ravenclaw colors so that she could support both teams. One of her earrings was a raven, which would caw angrily and fluff its foliage every minute or so, while the other was a lion that had slept nearly the whole game.

She looked delightful and very, very Luna.

Down on the pitch the entire Gryffindor team had converged into one crowd of pure happiness, laughing and thumping one another violently on the back, jumping into each other’s arms and twirling each other around, dizzy with the rush of their victory. It had been a vicious game, but everyone on the Gryffindor team had played their roles to perfection, Ginny scoring goals at a rate so deftly it had been breathtaking, Ron kicking and knocking the balls away from the goals time after time after time. And Harry, who had caught the snitch.

Hermione watched as Harry passed the cup to Ron, who grinned so big and bright it almost looked like it hurt, and the red-head lifted the cup up victoriously and gleefully soaked up the cheer the crowd gave. Hermione smiled, and cheered extra loud just for him.

Ginny, windswept and sweaty, beaming like nothing had ever made her so happy in her life, turned to Harry while laughing, and between one moment and the next Harry was suddenly surging forward. His hands came up to cup Ginny’s face as he threw himself at the girl face fist, surprising and toppling her to the ground. They went down in a tangle of limbs and sweat stained uniforms, their teammates hurrying out of the way, and the entire crowd _screamed_ as Ginny’s arms came up to wrap tightly around the boy on top of her, smiling and laughing into their first kiss.

“Oh!” Hermione gasped as it all unfolded, grinning happily after her shock passed because Merlin, did they deserve this.

“Oh….” She moaned as Ron, who had had his back to the pair the entire time, turned to see what the ruckus was and froze at the sight of Harry and Ginny thoroughly snogging one another.

He started yelling, dropping the cup to reach for his wand – forgetting that it was in the locker room – and Hermione could very easily guess what he was shouting about. It almost certainly contained the line _“Get your hands off my sister._ ”

“It seems that Potter and Ginny Weasley have decided to celebrate with one another,” Smith enthused in the commentator’s seat, sounding positively _gleeful_ about the unfolding incident, “And that older brother Ron Weasley is not happy about this.”

 “I’m so happy for them.” Luna sighed beside her as Ginny stepped up and punched her brother in the nose. Ron fell to the ground, the crowd cheered, and Harry looked just the slightest bit more besotted.

“Yeah…” Hermione sighed, a little uncertain as she watched Hooch attempt to break up the sibling scuffle while Harry stood to the side and pretty much wrung his hands.

Merlin, but they were going to have fun together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Legilimens.”_

_It was a picture perfect sunny day, with fluffy white clouds in the almost too blue sky and a nice breeze rolling through. He’s a  child, dressed impeccably in shorts with suspenders, polished shoes, and a button up shirt, and he plays with a ball that zips magically through the air, always just out of reach.._

_“Draco!” A crisp voice called out, and the small boy – only four or five – looks away from his game and toward the two adults standing a short distance away, standing stiffly in wait. They are imposing in their beauty – both blonde with razor sharp features, tall with impeccable taste in their extremely expensive clothes. “Come now, we are going home.” The man called, and the boy hurried over on his short legs, the ball following after._

_When he reached his parents he grabbed onto his father’s hand, grinning up at the man happily. The man smiled gently down at the boy and…_

_He’d been injured before, usually from practicing complicated Quidditch moves while on break, but there was something different about being punched in the face…_

_He watched as Hermione twirled around with Krum, looking like she was glowing as she laughed, the most put together she had ever been. There is an almost mystified look on his face at first, enraptured by the sight of the girl. But then he seems to pull himself back, taking a moment to scowl at the girl before turning away._

_The disgusted curl of his lip remains, even when he is not staring at her…_

_He was crying and he just couldn’t stop, full on body wracking sobs as he curled up on the bed. His mother sat down next to him – he knew from the smell of her perfume – and he didn’t hesitate before crawling over to her. He flopped back down, his face now pressed to her chest as she held him, rocking him back and forth._

_“They made me… I had to…” He stuttered, and she shushed him._

_“I know. Oh, I know my darling. My love.” She hushed, crying as well…_

Suddenly, she ran into an incredibly present wall, and pulled out of his head, sighing as she dropped her wand.

“You need to hide it better.” She reminded him once he’d caught his breath, and he glared at her viciously.

“Oh, I didn’t realize. Now that I know, I’ll make sure it’s _perfect_ for you next time.” He hissed, and she rolled her eyes at how melodramatic he was.

“Don’t… Try not to imagine a wall.” Hermione suggested, trying to recall the best suggestions of the fifteen sum books they had read. “Maybe a box, and you can put everything you need to in it and tuck it away.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” He asked, since they had yet to have the same problem with Hermione. She had more of a problem with keeping her mind full of every memory except the ones she needed to hide.

“Yeah.” Hermione shrugged, going over to her things to take a drink from the water she had brought with her. “It seemed less likely to be noticed than a giant wall blocking everything.”

He huffed, but since he didn’t make a nuisance of himself Hermione figured he was going to try it. She thought about just continuing as they always did, but…

“What had happened?” She asked quietly, still not facing him, looking down at her water. “In your memory where you and your Mom were crying?” She had an idea, had kind of sensed the other memories surrounding that, but she hadn’t wanted to delve further.

He was quiet, obviously weighing whether or not he wanted to answer.

“The initiation ritual for Death Eaters.” He said quietly, and she tried her hardest not to flinch from the raggedness in his voice as she turned back to him. “They bring in a muggle and we… We had to torture him.”

He was standing there looking decidedly away from her, fists clenched so tightly at his side that they were trembling, lips pressed thin. And she wanted to throw up, wanted to scream, but she couldn’t do either. So instead she took a shuddering breath and tried not to think too hard about it. It would only distract from everything they had to be doing.

At least she knew that he hadn’t been happy about doing it, and that it had really torn him up.

“Make sure you hide that memory too.” She told him quietly, taking another breath as she tried her best not to remember him curled up on his bed and crying like he was breaking to pieces. “If they find that they’ll take it as a sign of weakness, or maybe muggle sympathies and…”

“Right.” He nodded, and they both avoided the other’s eyes the rest of their meeting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Here.” Luna hummed, handing a small vial over to Ginny. “A present.”

“Oh? What’s this for? To keep away nargles? Wrakspurts?” Ginny asked with a laugh, and Luna’s smile was a sweet, innocent thing. Hermione watched them both lazily, the three of them lounging against the roots of a tree next to the lake. She’d been talked into taking a break from studying to hang out with them for a bit, and was so far happy that they had convinced her to join them. It was a lovely day, and they were lovely people to hang out with.

“Oh no. Your lips are just very chapped and this will help.” She answers breezily, and Hermione nearly chokes on the force of her sudden laughter. Ginny’s face flushes pink, but she takes the vial with a self-deprecating twist of her lips.

“Thanks.” She said dryly, putting her present in the side pocket of her bag.

“Oh, you’re welcome. And I’ve always wondered, is Harry a good kisser?” Luna asked like it was perfectly normal to do so, and Hermione wondered if she’d ever know what it was like to breathe again.

“You’ve always wondered, huh?” Ginny snickered and Luna shrugged, the star on her headband constantly going off like a sparkler. It had managed to stop being distracting about ten minutes ago.

“I wonder the same about many people, like Hermione,” Said girl chokes at this, “And Neville. I assume that you’re good, since you seem very confident in your abilities and I overheard Dean talking to Seamus one day.”

“Thanks.” Ginny says happily. “And he’s… He’s alright.”

“Oh. You’re lying.” Luna sighs, as if disappointed, and Hermione was so close to tears it physically hurt.

“No it’s just…” Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed, wanting the girls to understand, “He hasn’t done it very often, so he just needs a bit of practice. That’s all.”

“Alright.” Luna shrugged, accepting it for what it was.

“I mean…” Ginny sighed, and Hermione knew what she was dancing around.

“It wasn’t what you thought it would be?” She asked once she’d managed to stop laughing, and the girl hesitated before nodding.

“It was good!” She hurried to assure them, and Hermione nodded.

“You’d just built it up in your head, and it didn’t meet the expectations you’d had.” Luna soothed, patting the other girl’s hand. And she had, because she’d had her crush for years and had probably had her fantasies and her day dreams, and there was no way that Harry could have ever met them all. “That’s alright. And at least you can teach him.”

“Yeah.” Hermione nodded, “And we won’t tell Harry about this until you’ve been together for at least ten years.” She vowed, and Ginny laughed with a pleased little flush on her face.

_Ten years_ … Hermione mused to herself as she watched Ginny talk about how well she and Harry were getting along, watching as the girl positively _glowed_.

What would that be like, loving someone for that long?

_What would it be like_ , a small part of her hissed as she watched Ginny, _to love someone like that?_

But she forced all of that away and made herself stop thinking like that because there were more important things to focus on.

With everything else going on in her life she _really_ didn’t need to add anything else to worry about.

But even so, sitting there with the sun shining on Ginny and her happiness, Hermione couldn’t help feeling a little jealous despite herself.


	11. Preparing for the Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are nearing the end.

 

_“Legilimens.”_

She fought against the intrusion, of course she did. But he was in her head and-

_“A magical school… In Scotland?” Her mother questioned, one clammy hand holding Hermione’s tightly as she watched Professor McGonagall – that’s what she had said her name was – with no small amount of suspicion. The witch – she was a witch! – nodded._

_“I know this is difficult to understand, but you probably realized your daughter is different. That she can do-“_

_“Yes, we know about that,” Her mother waved the rest of her words away rather rudely, something she wouldn’t have done unless she was flustered. “It’s just…”_

_“I always knew there was something off about that place. Scotland, I mean.” Her father suddenly blurted. McGonagall glared and…_

_“Mudblood!” Draco spit out, and Hermione didn’t expect it, didn’t expect the sick swoop to her stomach, didn’t expect the bile that rose in her throat to pool in her mouth and…_

_“Malfoy’s the one behind it, I know it!” Harry urged and Hermione hid herself behind her library book wondering how it was possible for Malfoy to be the one behind_ everything…

_“You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!” She yelled, and swung her fist out just like her mother had shown her to do if a man on the street ever bothered her. It hurt more than she had expected, a sting in her knuckles and a throb going through her wrist and arm, but Merlin it was satisfying…_

Draco dropped his wand and they both took a moment to catch their breath.

“I couldn’t find it that time.” He said as if she didn’t already know, but the words were threaded with a bit of approval that made her feel like beaming. They had been meeting every other day for the past few weeks, feeling a bit of desperation to get a handle on occlumency before everything came crashing down around them. Neither were willing to torture the other to find out if their walls would stand up to that, but so far they were managing being able to hide their secrets from deep searches.

“So, how is it dealing with Saint Potter and the Weaslette as a couple?” Draco asked bitingly, though the twist of his lips when he looked at her was almost friendly. Hermione shrugged and decided to just ignore his little eccentricities.

“They like each other, and now that they’re together I can see how well they work.” She sighed, remembering worrying how it would go if Ginny’s crush had ever come to fruition, if Harry ever noticed her, or if Ginny would continue to move on until Harry ended up catching on too late.

It was nice, this happy beginning to something more.

“Oh?” Draco asked like he was actually interested, and Hermione shrugged.

“They’re both incredibly sarcastic and make each other laugh.” Hermione pulls back her hair and rolls her shoulders. “That’s good enough for me. Let’s go again.”

Draco nodded and lifted his chin, readying himself as Hermione raised her wand.

_“Legilimens.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Meet me in the room of hidden things_ , Draco had told her at the end of their last meeting, _Get there about half nine._

Cryptic, but Hermione could figure out why. She knew him well enough, had been in his head for long enough and intimately enough to know what he was doing.

So she went.

 _I want the room Draco Malfoy has been working in._ She thought as she paced the hall in front of a long expanse of blank wall, _I want the room Draco Malfoy has been working in_.

 _I want the room Draco Malfoy has been working in_.

And she remembered Harry ranting about not being able to get into the room while Draco was working, that he could never get the same room to show up when he asked. And as the door appeared for her, she wondered if the room was smarter than they had thought, because maybe it had read her intentions and realized how different they were from Harry’s. Why else would it allow her entrance and not Harry?

She went inside and took in the room Draco had been working in all school year long.

Towers of items piled atop one another, odds and ends with no connection to one another. Chairs and books and clothes and a huge four poster bed with magical creatures carved into the post. Congealed potions in dusty vials she made sure not to touch, swords and axes – one stained worryingly with blood – statues and cauldrons and trophies galore. Sad or angry looking portraits, and a huge rolled up tapestry that looked moments away from falling over and toppling several story high towers of books.

She meant to explore more but got distracted by the _thousands_ of books, eagerly perusing the spines and disregarding the suspicious voice in the back of her mind that warned her the books must have been discarded for a reason.

“Granger?” Draco called after what felt like no time at all, and Hermione jumped, nearly dropping the stack of books she had collected.

“Over here!” She shouted, beaming at him – to his palatable shock – when he made his way over to her. “Have you _seen_ some of the books here? There are titles here that are thought to be destroyed or incredibly rare! And books I’ve never even _heard_ of!” She enthused, setting her stack aside to pick up another she just spotted and show it to him.

“ _Alistair Bexel’s Journey through Muggle Life_! It was thought that almost every copy of this was burned by the Death Eaters during the war!” She enthused, shoving the book into his hands. “And- And this one! _A Complete List of Potions made from Wraught Root_. It sounds boring, but it’s from 1550! This was before the wizarding world had accepted or modified the muggle printing press, so it is hand printed and probably only one of… of… I don’t know! That’s what is _amazing_!” She gestured wildly, hitting the thigh of the nearby giant stuffed troll.

She almost went on because there were so many more books to talk about, but as she took a breath she suddenly took in the way Malfoy was watching her, a small quirk of a smirk on his lips and his eyes soft and fond. It made her stomach swoop, a sudden dip and upward soar that caught her by surprise and hitched her breath.

He looked down at the book in his hands, studying it for a moment as Hermione tried to gather her faculties, and she couldn’t tell if there was a flash of a genuine smile on his lips or if she was hallucinating.

“I have to show you something.” Draco admitted, looking up and waiting for her to nod before turning around and leading her down a winding path to a cabinet.

 _The_ cabinet.

“It’s done.” He admitted as they stared at it, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Feeling like something was squeezing around her throat, slowly closing off her airways and choking her, Hermione couldn’t even swallow past the pressure.

“Oh.” She said thickly. He nodded.

“They’ll come next Saturday, at night. That way the dark mark will stand out more when they cast it.” He quips weakly, and Hermione takes a step closer to him, hand hovering an uncertain moment before touching down on his shoulder.

“We have a plan.” She whispers, “We know what to do. We’ll make sure the students are safe and… And you. We won’t let anything happen to you.” She promised, and he looked away from the cabinet to look at her, measuring the weight of her words and will.

He finally nods, and looks away again.

“Let’s go look at some more of the books.” He said thickly, and Hermione squeezed his shoulder once before turning away and walking with him back to the books she’d been rifling through.

They sat on the floor, going stack by stack through the books. Some, ones that looked dark and dangerous, they carefully sat to the side, but the rest were all thoroughly considered.

“Listen to this,” Draco called up to her, since she was up on a ladder they had found, looking at the top of a new pile, “ _To Alphard, the only man who has ever made me feel this way. I wish for you to know that this book fully encompasses my thoughts on you and your generous offer.”_

“What book is it?” She called down, smiling at the book of old dragon sketches she found. She could send it to Charlie, and it would probably make his year since it was incredibly detailed, with one or two extinct species in it.

 _“A Comprehensive Essay on Mold and Fungi._ ” He laughed, and she snorted so hard she nearly fell from her perch.

“Oh, that is _brilliant._ ” She laughed. “Oh, and what about this one?” She called down, reading the inscription inside of a book of spells. “ _’You are useless, but not as useless as I had previously imagined. It is possible now that I could come to care for you if given enough time and liquor.’_ ”

Draco cackled. “Which book is that?”

“ _Spells to Make a Comfortable Home._ From Elizabeth to Bartley.” Hermione smiled and picked up the book, sending it down with a levitation spell to join her pile of books she was taking.

“What’s your favorite book?” She asked seemingly on a whim, but she’d really been thinking of asking him for a while. He was silent for a minute, in which her stomach tightened with the awkwardness of the situation, before she heard him sigh.

“It’s a book of hard to make potions, with the history of each potion after the directions of how to make it. I found it in a rare book shop a year ago, and had to spend _far_ too much on it but… One day I want to just lock myself in a potions lab and try to make them all.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t been expecting that. For him to actually answer or for him to actually say something meaningful and obviously heartfelt. “So you like potion making?”

“It’s my favorite subject, and I’m good at it.” He sniffed, back to being his usual prattish self. But she could see a bit of what he was hoping to hide. She had heard the wistfulness in his voice, just a touch of desire.

“Would you want to become a potions master after everything is done with?” She asked, turning around to sit on the top rung of the ladder so that she could look down at him, wanting to _see_ how he would respond. He looked up briefly at her briefly, suspiciously, before looking back down at one of the books in his lap without really looking at it.

“I’m a Malfoy.” He said tonelessly, and she suddenly remembered some of the things she’d seen, memories of his father stressing the importance of their name, of everyone telling him exactly what he had to do as the sole Malfoy heir. The weight everyone had been sure to saddle him with, telling him that it was for the good of his family. “I’ll run the family business as I’m supposed to, and manage all of our assets. There is… There is nothing else for me to do.” He said with the honesty of the knowing, picking up another book to flip through it.

“Bollocks.” Hermione said after a substantial lull, shocking the boy enough to have his head swinging up so that he could look at her. “That’s stupid. Hire someone to manage all of that like every other rich person in the world, and use your money to do what you want.” Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back around to continue going through the large pile of books.

“What about you? What’s your favorite book?” He asked, changing the subject a little too forcefully, and she decided to let him.

“It’s a Winnie the Pooh book – muggle children’s books – that was my grandfather’s, and then my father’s, and now mine. One day, I’ll read it to my kids like my dad did for me.” She levitated down a few more books, and then one with gold writing along a bright red spine in another stack caught her eye, and she _had_ to check that one out.

“And what do you expect to find yourself doing after school?” Draco asked, sounding a bit like he was trying not to sound interested, and Hermione hummed for a moment in thought.

“I thought maybe teaching, or writing, but recently I’ve started looking into the rights of magical creatures-“

“Your house elf thing.” Draco recalled more than a little judgmentally, and Hermione glared down at him.

“Yes, the fact that there is an entire species _enslaved_ by wizards is a very large part of this. But also how werewolves are treated, and goblins and… There are probably so many more! And I could probably help them. So… Maybe that.” She shrugged again. “But, truthfully, I don’t know how I’ll feel once all of… Everything is over and done with.”

“Yeah.” Draco agreed quietly, and she was the one who looked away now.

Another hour passed happily between them, but sadly they could not stay forever. Crabbe and Goyle were waiting impatiently outside the door and Hermione needed to let McGonagall know what was going on. After, of course, she finished dropping the books off in her room.

“We should meet here, instead of the bathroom next time.” Hermione told him as they gathered their piles of books, “It’s more private, people are less likely to come across us, and when we’re done we can go through more books.” Her enthusiasm at the last point let him know which part of her list was the one she actually wanted.

He considered her for a moment before nodding. “I’ll see you then, Granger.” He said strangely, and she found it difficult to stay still for some reason, almost itching as he watched her.

“Stay safe, Malfoy.” She urged, and he paused as if thrown by this request before continuing on his way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can honestly say that I hoping this would not happen as we have planned.” McGonagall sighed into her tea, and Hermione sighed in weary agreement.

“We’ll make sure the rest of the students are safe, though.” Hermione reminded the woman, who nodded heavily.

“Yes, but I do not like how close we are cutting this. We cannot call the order until the Death Eaters make themselves known, or else they may suspect someone letting their plan out. We can’t order the students to stay in their rooms with no reason, because that may get out as well-“

“What if we had a reason, though?” Hermione interrupted, having thought of this, “Say we get Peeves to run amuck. We could order the students to stay in the dorms because of him, and we could just chalk it up to a happy coincidence.”

“It could work.” McGonagall conceded, and Hermione felt herself relax a bit.

“Draco said that the main players that will be coming through are his aunt, the Carrows, and someone named Yaxley. The rest will just be some lesser known Death Eaters, some new recruits too.”

McGonagall pursed her lips but nodded. “While I would prefer if Bellatrix Lestrange would never get anywhere near any of my students ever again, if she’s the only one of her sort that come I’ll take it.”

They finished their tea and talked a bit longer about the plan, and when Hermione stood to leave McGonagall held up a hand to stop her.

“And please, Miss Granger, try to make sure Mr. Potter doesn’t stick his nose into any of this. We’ve nearly managed to end the year without him nearly _dying._ ”

“I’ll do my best.” Hermione promised.


	12. A Question's Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermion have a chat

_Pansy was on his arm, her dress robes an emerald green that matched well with his own. The front of her hair was pulled back neatly by two sparkling combs, and her makeup had been done by a careful hand. Draco himself  had been dressed with equal care, with shining dress shoes pinching his toes uncomfortably and hair slicked back so strictly that it pulled his face a bit._

_The two watched their parents talking across the ballroom, stiffly dancing pairs fliting through their view ever now and then to obstruct it…_

_“’Oh, why look at them Reginald. They just look so ready to be married. It really is too bad the ministry banned the marriage of fourteen year olds.’” Pansy mocked as her mother talked. Draco snickered._

_“’’Yes, they both look good in green, and can manage to not murder each other over the course of the day. What more do you need to marry someone?’” Draco joined in, adding the voice of the girl’s father._

_“’Quite so.’” Pansy intoned as Mr. Malfoy talked, making her voice ridiculously deep, “’Though I don’t know about the hair. After all, all Malfoys must be blonde! So blonde it stabs you in the eye when the sun shines directly on it! Something something something, Malfoy honor.’”_

_Draco pressed his lips together to stop the loud bray of laughter that threatened to come out and embarrass him in front of all of his parents’ business associates, though this only caused a particularly ugly snort to come out instead that made Pansy laugh happily…_

_“I’m sorry, but have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost it and I’m helping him to look for it.” A girl asked, poking her head into their compartment. The boys within blinked at her, and it took Crabbe to answer._

_“No. Sorry.” He said simply, and she nodded once sharply._

_“Well, alright then. If you do see a toad, try and catch it and get it to Neville, please, he’s in the next car.” She commanded, leaving as quickly as she had come._

_“Blimey, her hair took up as much space as the rest of her!” Theo noted, and the rest of the compartment snickered…_

_Her teeth grew, longer and longer and longer. True beaver’s teeth. And he watched as her eyes widened with understanding and shock, and then tears began to gather…_

_“The pain goes away eventually.” His mother tells him heavily, her handkerchief balled tightly in her hand. She had not cried, she would never do so in front of the people currently inhabiting their house, but she had needed something inconspicuous to busy her hands with. “I’ll… I’ll go get some tea.” She murmured before hurrying out of the room. Nobody bothered to point out that she could have just called a house elf._

_His father continued to carefully wrap the mark now on his son’s arm, the skin around the ugly black of the magic red and blistering terribly. Draco couldn’t seem to take his wide eyes off of it, even as it was hidden away from him piece by piece by the bandage._

_“Is that true, father?” He asked the older man, sounding so incredibly young. The man paused his work for a moment, and then continued on._

_“No.”_

_Finally, Draco looked away…_

_Granger was sitting alone in the library, a pile of books by her side as she carefully wrote on a long roll of parchment. Draco watched her for a moment, hidden by the shelf of books separating them, before looking around and finding no one. He considered the girl for one more moment before turning on his heel and walking away…_

Hermione pulled back, taking a single bracing breath. After weeks of practice the spell no longer affected either of them too badly, and they could easily move on only seconds after finishing now instead of having to take a few minutes.

“I couldn’t find anything that time.” Hermione congratulated him, grinning happily at the boy. He smirked back, buoyed by his achievement.  “And on our last meeting before… This is really, really good.” She nodded, hands on her lips as she tried to talk herself into believing what she said. Draco tilted his head – in agreement? Disagreement? Was he dizzy? What was that supposed to mean? – and walked over to sit in the large, throne like armchair they had pulled over next to their latest pile of books. Hermione followed, sitting in the much more sedate chair she had chosen for herself.

They continued their usual search through the books, though Hermione was distracted, going through the pile at half the pace she usually did. Draco seemed to be ignoring her for some reason, which was fine, perfectly fine, but…

“Can I see it?” Hermione finally blurt out, and Draco froze. “Your… Your dark mark, can I see it?”

There was a pause, a moment made up of held breaths and clenched guts, and then Draco exploded out of his seat, topping the small pile of books he had gathered as he rushed away.

“Wait!” Hermione cried out, leaping out of her own chair and rushing after him, “Malfoy, just-“

“Why would you?” He roared, turning on her suddenly, “Why would you want to… To!“ He was backing her up, making her stumble as she stepped backwards to get away from his furious charge.

“Just show it to me! It doesn’t matter why I want to see it!” Hermione shouted back, nearly falling as she tripped over a broom stick. She caught herself on a marble statue of a reared back centaur, and quickly found herself firmly kept pressed against it as Draco came into her space, leaning in intimidatingly.

“Fine! You want to see it? You want to- Fine!” He hissed, fumbling with the button on the cuff of his shirt and nearly ripping it off as he tried to slip it loose. Once freed, he didn’t roll up the sleeve in neat, practiced motions as she suspected he usually would – in her mind, it was the only way he could do it that would make sense – he just jerked the sleeve viciously upward and thrust his arm into her face.

It was different than she had expected. It was just a bit of marked skin, similar to a tattoo. This is what she knew logically. Her chest ached at the sight, though, and goosebumps broke out all along her arms from a sudden surge of fear.

She knew what the mark meant, had read every book about the wizarding war that she could. Had seen firsthand the sheer terror that came from seeing the mark summer before fourth year. She knew the pride many took in it, the thoughts running through their heads as they got it. Thoughts about people like her.

She had seen it all first hand in Draco’s on mind.

“Does it still hurt?” She asked quietly, remembering his parents’ words from his memories. All of his aggression had bled out of him as she had stood there, silently taking it in, leaving him with a tense set to his shoulders and a closed off expression on his face.

“Yes.” He whispered heavily, doing nothing as Hermione’s hand came up – seemingly of its own volition – to hesitate over the mark before gently and carefully touching it.

A moment later she shoved him out of the way, stumbling away to throw up the bile that had built up in her throat over the course of the past few minutes.

She had _touched it_. She had… Why had she…

She threw up again just thinking about it, remembering the rough texture under her fingers, the stark picture of the mark seemingly engraved on the back of her eyelids because she saw it even as she closed her eyes.

Eventually her stomach had to stop because there was nothing else left inside of her to get rid of, and she took a deep and bracing breath before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and slowly standing back up.

She cleaned the patchy, stuffed rabbit she had accidently threw up on, and stood there for an aching moment staring into the distance and wishing the last few minutes hadn’t even happened.

“That’s what you get for your bloody Gryffindor bravery.” Draco said bitterly, and Hermione turned to find that he was still in the same place she had shoved him, staring down at his still bared arm with a mean curl to his lip.

“Do you regret getting it?” She asked, her voice a hoarse rasp that sounded just as ravaged as she felt. Draco looked up with a mean and ugly sneer.

“Of course I do, Granger. My entire family is-“

“Do you,” She interrupted, feeling weak and woozy, knowing that his next words and the truth behind them had the ability to hurt her a little bit. Not enough to break her, but… It would hurt. “Have a different opinion of muggleborns and muggles now?”

They stared at each other for a moment that was so heavy with its weariness and defeatedness that it was almost oppressive. That it almost felt like they were choking on it.

“Of course I do.” He said heavily, and she could see him swallow, could see him struggle with his words, “How could I… After everything I’ve seen in that fucking head of yours…”

And she could see that he was telling the truth.

“You’re not the one I’m afraid of.” She whispered, knowing what he must have been thinking. “You’re not the one I’m…”

“Yeah.” He muttered, turning away from her. “I know exactly what that was all about.”

And with quick, efficiently angry movements, he pulled his sleeve back down and buttoned it closed.

“Malfoy!” She called, and he froze, “I’m proud of everything you’ve done. The way you’ve changed. It’s… It’s incredible, and you have been very brave.” She told him truthfully, her voice a bit raw and uncomfortable. But they couldn’t leave it at this, couldn’t just have everything crumble at the last moment…

He didn’t turn back to her, but she could see a bit of the side of his face, and watched with shock as it flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat, “Who said I wanted your approval, Granger? And really, the bravery bit is more you. Since it’s a Gryffindor trait and all.” He told her imperiously, and she was glad he wasn’t facing her because she had absolutely no excuse for the almost fond smile that spread on her face at that.

“Oh, piss off Malfoy.” She told him, a trace of a laugh in her voice. He sniffed.

“My words exactly, Granger.” And he continued on his way.


	13. The Best Laid Plans Crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In every ending, there are hundreds of new beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is the end of part one! Part two won't be done with for a bit, most likley, but I'll be postign the first chapter soon so that you can get a feel for where this is going.
> 
> This chapter is a little choppy, but that's because I'm not going to go over, detail by detail, things that haven't really changed from the books/movies. I'll answer any questions, though.

Plans, no matter how carefully laid, never went as they were supposed to. She didn’t know why she had expected this one to go as they had intended.

“Dumbledore thinks the castle might be attacked while we’re gone,” Harry told her, Ginny, and Ron hurriedly, and Hermione could barely hear over the shock.

Dumbledore. Of course it was Dumbledore. Him and whatever plans he’d decided were more important than _everything_ Draco, Hermione, and McGonagall had worked on these past months. His plans were worth more than everything they were depending on to protect Draco and his family.

She felt sick.

“He’s called on the order to patrol the halls and keep the students in their dorms,” He continued in a rush, “So I’ll need you to get everyone from the DA together to help. And take his, too,” He pushed a vial – the _felix felicis_ – into her hand. “Make sure everyone drinks some.” And he turned to go.

“Harry!” Hermine shouted, stopping him, “This is _crazy!_ This-“

“This is what Dumbledore wants. We have to trust him.” He urged.

And it seemed to blur a bit, after that.

Luna and Neville were the only ones who answered the summons, and everyone hurried to follow Harry’s plan. Three people would be placed outside the room of requirement to watch for Draco – this was all going wrong, it was all crumbling through her fingers – and two outside of Snape’s office.

_Draco won’t know what’s going on. We should have thought of this. We should have…_

She didn’t have long before she had to go and she had to go or else it would be suspicious, but she had to do _something_ and as she ran up the stairs to her dorm room she hoped that this, at least, would go well.

She had taken the sip of _felix felicis,_ thankfully _,_ so hopefully luck was on her side.

She threw herself onto her bed, digging urgently into her bedside table for the things she would need. But for some reason she couldn’t find the handful of extra fake galleons she _knew_ she had thrown in there, extras she’d kept from the days of the DA. But for some reason she could only find two despite the luck potion and despite _knowing_ that there were more in there somewhere, and…

She pulled out what turned out to be a necklace Margaret – the desk worker at her parent’s office – had given her for Christmas. A plain mirrored silver disk hanging from a dainty silver chain, the woman had winked and said it would be good for any sly checkups during a date. Hermione had thanked the woman, but it wasn’t her style and it seemed pretty useless, so she had just shoved it away after accidentally bringing it to school with her.

It would work, though. She didn’t have time for anything else.

She quickly cast the spell on the three objects, focusing hard and gripping her wand so tight she feared it might snap. But this needed to be done, and she didn’t have time to worry about things like that. She didn’t have _time_ …

“What took you so long?” Ron asked when she came running down the stairs, standing tensely in wait for her with his wand out and determination in his eyes. She brushed past him.

“I had to get something. Come on, so we can get in place.” She called over her shoulder, breathing a bit easier now, hand pressing occasionally to her pocket so that she could make sure the spelled objects were still on her. It might have been suspicious had anyone been paying any attention to her.

The attack came with a sudden viciousness that even she hadn’t really been expecting, and the castle seemed to shake with the screams of the Death Eaters as they began to attack, an intimidation tactic that did its job quite well, if the fear that came up like bile was anything to go by.

But fear wasn’t important. What she was feeling wasn’t important. There were things in place, things that she and she alone had to protect, that required her to be in control and level-headed.

She ran, not from the Death Eaters or to her friends, and gripped her wand so tight she feared it might snap, determined to make the tattered remains of their plan work. She didn’t have time to figure anything else out.

Finding Draco isn’t that hard despite the chaos, which she can most likely thank the luck potion for, and she quickly incapacitates the Death Eater that was walking with him with a sleeping spell.

“Malfoy,” She hissed, hurrying over to him, shoving his wand away so she could grab him and pull him behind a hanging tapestry. “Things-“

“What the _hell_ happened Granger?” He snapped, holding his wand like it was his only lifeline, “Potter’s friends were posted-“

“I know!” A breath, _calm down. Think._ “I know. Dumbledore changed _everything_. He’s left the castle and taken Harry with him, and he just… I don’t know! But I… I have something for you.” She whispered, and then pulled the vial holding the last little bit of the _felix felicis_ out of her pocket.

“It’s the last bit of Harry’s luck potion. Take it.” She urged, shoving it into his hand as he stared at her with no small amount of shock. “And this too.” And she reached into her pocket, hesitating just a moment before pulling out the necklace. She’d meant to give him one of the galleons and keep the necklace for herself, but for some reason this just feels more _right_.

“I don’t really think right now is the time to be exchanging gifts, Granger.” Draco snaps, though he’s watching the necklace with a bit of interest. Hermione practically growls and shoves it at him.

“No, you prat. It’s a way for us to keep in contact. I’ve spelled it so we can send each other messages, though they’ll have to be short. Just give it a bit of magic – with your wand or without – and think of the message you want to send, and I’ll get it. And I’ll do the same to you. It’ll burn a bit when you’ve received a message, so that’s how you’ll know.” She instructs him, and after considering her a moment he takes it.

“Probably should have thought of this a bit earlier, Granger.” He snipes, and she can’t resist the urge to shove him any more. It’s just a tiny shove, though, not wanting them to be noticed by causing a ruckus.

“Shut up.” She grits out, closing her eyes a moment to search for strength. Taking a breath, she set her shoulders and got herself ready to do what needed to be done.

“Just so you know.” She started quietly, the abrupt change catching him off guard, “This is probably the last time we’ll be able to talk like this so I need you know that I’ll protect you. No matter what it takes.” Because after everything that would happen during the night, it was all going to change.

He nods, slowly, staring at her like he didn’t know what to make of her, and then with a breath he swallowed down the potion and turned to leave, pausing before stepping out from the cover they had been allowed.

“I’ll do the same.” He promised, and then he was running away, off to do what he had to.

It was all they could do, now.

Hermione waited a moment before stepping out into the hall as well, finding the eyes of several portraits on her. She froze for all of a second before she found herself lifting a finger to press it to her lips.

“Please,” She asked the portraits, waiting for them to nod in agreement before running off, wand drawn and her breath caught in her chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The castle mourned, and Hermione wondered at how so much could change in so little time. She’d known it was happening, had always been aware that it was part of the plan, but still… The death of a man like Dumbledore was not something easily taken by anyone.

“It was all Malfoy’s fault. His and Snape’s.” Harry spit out the night before the funeral, staring into the fire in the common room as everyone around him shifted uneasily. Except for Hermione, who sat there and listened intently to his story.

He and Dumbledore got back from their fruitless quest for the horcrux and landed at the astronomy tower, at which point Dumbledore had immobilized Harry and had hidden him away just before Draco had appeared. He said Dumbledore had told Draco that he didn’t have to do anything and that he could offer him and his family protection – which must have thrown him, Hermione knew – but Draco had denied him, disarming the man and lifting the wand for the killing curse.

He’d been ready to do it, too, when Snape had appeared and had taken the chance from the boy as Dumbledore had begged for his life. And Snape was the Half-Blood Prince, it turned out, and Harry vowed to never use another spell from that text book ever again.

Eventually everyone went off to bed except for Harry, Ginny, Ron and herself, and Ginny and Hermione shared a look that had the younger girl standing up and dragging her protesting brother away.

Hermione moved to sit right next to harry, and put a careful hand on his knee.

“I’m so sorry.” She said quietly, “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I should have paid more attention to Snape and Draco. I should have-“ He choked out, tears rolling sluggishly down his face. And oh, this probably hurt most of all.

“You were already obsessed to the point of madness.” She protested, leaning forward so she could press the importance of this to him. “Harry, you may have been right about them but you had very little proof before this except for some gut feelings and slightly suspicious activity.” He looked away from her, jaw clenched.

“And Harry… Here.” She sighed, pulling out the Marauder’s map and holding it out to him, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was just… I was worried about you.” She told him, a lie and a truth. All of it a necessity. He stared at the map for a moment before visibly sagging, bypassing the map to just lean his head on her shoulder.

“I know.” Hermione murmured, curling a protective arm around him as he began to cry in earnest. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” Hermione knocked, hesitating just outside Ginny’s dorm door. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh.” Ginny sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face in a way that Hermione understood and empathized with. She was feeling the same after… _Everything._ Ginny shook her head to get her hair settled back and to shake off the mood, slumping a bit where she was sitting on the floor in front of the trunk she was organizing. “Fine. You know, for someone who’s going to be left behind because she’s just so _loved_.”

Hermione snorted and came into the room, thankful that the rest of its residents were elsewhere.

“I mean, I _obviously_ can’t go and beat up Voldemort because, duh, I’ll be all distracting with my girlfriendness and little-sisterness. But that’s fine. I’ll just keep to myself like a good little witch and let all the men do their big-strong men jobs.” The younger girl bit out in a sudden rush of anger, throwing a scarf into her trunk with extreme prejudice.

“Sorry.” Hermione sighed, sitting down on her bed and starting to fold the pile of clothes on it, feeling a little guilty because she knew that she was going, and that there was no reason really for the younger girl not to go except for the ones the boys had pulled out of their insulting asses. “Why didn’t you say any of this to Harry though?”

“He has enough on his plate, and he’s not going to lose the war just because his girlfriend gave him a huge guilt trip before he left. Or, you know, ex-girlfriend. Whatever.” She sighed, rolling her head back for a moment before letting it flop forward with a groan. “I’m just more than a little pissed, but I’m not going to put any more burdens on Harry. I won’t do that to him or, you know, the world.”

“Yeah.” Hermione nodded, “I understand that.”

The girls continued to pack for a bit in silence before Ginny broke it with a thoughtful, “I could do something here, though.”

“Hm?”

“Without you guys here next year, there’s got to be somebody here screwing shit up for Voldemort and his gang, who always somehow wind up here every year.” Hermione snorted at her calling the Death Eaters a _gang_. It was… She imagined them in the fedoras and suits of all her mother’s favorite mafia dramas, and the image almost physically _hurt._ “So, I guess now it’ll have to be me.”

Hermione considered her for a moment, considered the fact that she was the strongest spell caster of her year – maybe in all of Hogwarts currently. Considered that she out of all the Weaslys had learned the most from Fred and George. Considered how brutal she had been at every battle, and realized… yeah.

“You’ll do great.” Hermione confided, and Ginny grinned widely. A little bit viciously.

“You too. You’ll kick ass.” Ginny said with no small amount of relish, and Hermione nearly fell off the bed she laughed so hard.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now.” McGonagall confided over their last meeting, the tea this time a soothing mint instead of the usual black. They both needed something at least a little soothing.

“I don’t either. I could barely talk with Draco because of how everything went and…”

“Voldemort is wrestling power in a much more efficient and speedy manner than he did the last war.” The professor – now headmistress – confided. “I don’t know where the world will be in a month, let alone the start of the next term. And Mister Malfoy… You haven’t heard anything from him?” Hermione shook her head, “Then I’m afraid I just… Do not know, Miss Granger.”

“I’m still his handler.” Hermione whispered, looking into the depths of her cup, “And when he does contact me… I’ll take care of him.”

McGonagall considered her for a moment as she sipped her tea.

“I know you will. But if you do, how will you get in contact with me? I already know you and Mister Potter and Weasly will not be returning next term.”

“W-What? I-“

“I know the look in all three of your eyes, Miss Granger, I have seen it far too many times over the years. And I do not know if you have noticed, but I am nobody’s fool.” The woman pointed out, and her student flushed, embarrassed at being caught on this little bit of arrogance.

“I know. Of course I do,” Hermione assured, “It’s just- Please, you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” McGonagall sighed, leaning heavily back in her chair, “I know better than to try and stop you three from your hair-brained ideas. But you need to contact me if you need anything, and this is my only stipulation.”

“Of course!” Hermione rushed to say, “Of course we will. And… I’ve actually already come up with a way for us to stay in contact.”

“Oh?”

Hermione nodded, and pulled out one of the two galleons in her pocket.

“It’s fake,” She assured the woman. “All the detailing around the edge will be replaced with words when I send you a message, and it will burn hot whenever you receive a message. I have one, so if you need to send me a message just touch your wand to the center and think about what you want to send. It’ll have to be fairly short, though.”

“Very clever, Miss Granger.” McGonagall praised after a moment of examining the coin, and Hermione flushed slightly.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“We’ll have to be careful, of course, but I do believe this is our best and safest course of action.”

Hermione nodded, and they finished their tea in silence. Hermione was nearly out the door when the professor’s voice stopped her, old and strong and with just a touch of the weariness of the past days.

“Stay strong, Miss Granger. And good luck.”

Hermione smiled over her shoulder, fighting the urge to cry because _this was it_. This was the end of everything she’d been sure of. This was the start of something so monumental and terrifying she couldn’t fully comprehend it.

“I will, Professor. And you too.” She nodded, continuing on her way.

She had a train to catch, and a war to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the tags maybe lied since Hermione and Draco didn't get together in this fic, but it doesn't make any sense for that to happen! The kids have other life and death matters on their minds!
> 
> It's coming, though. There's going to be some more bonding - long distance - in the next one.
> 
> Thank you, and see you soon!


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